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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<title>Daily Cursor Sharing Demo</title>
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<h1 class="title">Cursor sharing demo</h1>
<p class="prompt">A cursor sharing video app built with Daily</p>
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<h2>The Raven</h2>
<h3>By Edgar Allan Poe</h3>
<p>
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
<br>Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
<br>While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
<br>As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door—
<br>“’Tis some visiter,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
<br><span class="indent">Only this and nothing more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
<br>And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
<br>Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
<br>From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
<br>For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
<br><span class="indent">Nameless <i>here</i> for evermore.</span>
</p>
<p>
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
<br>Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
<br>So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
<br>“’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—
<br>Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
<br><span class="indent">This it is and nothing more.”</span>
</p>
<p>Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
<br>”Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
<br>But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
<br>And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
<br>That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
<br><span class="indent">Darkness there and nothing more.</span>
</p>
<p>
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
<br>Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
<br>But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
<br>And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
<br>This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”
<br><span class="indent">Merely this and nothing more.</span>
</p>
<p>
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
<br>Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.
<br>“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
<br>Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
<br>Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
<br><span class="indent">’Tis the wind and nothing more!”</span>
</p>
<p>
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
<br>In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
<br>Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
<br>But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
<br>Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
<br><span class="indent">Perched, and sat, and nothing more.</span>
</p>
<p>
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
<br>By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
<br>“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
<br>Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
<br>Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
<br><span class="indent">Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
<br>Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
<br>For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
<br>Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
<br>Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
<br><span class="indent">With such name as “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
<br>That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
<br>Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
<br>Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
<br>On the morrow <i>he</i> will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
<br><span class="indent">Then the bird said “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
<br>“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
<br>Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
<br>Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
<br>Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
<br><span class="indent">Of ‘Never—nevermore.’ ”</span>
</p>
<p>
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
<br>Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
<br>Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
<br>Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
<br>What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
<br><span class="indent">Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
<br>To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
<br>This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
<br>On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
<br>But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
<br><span class="indent"><i>She</i> shall press, ah, nevermore!</span>
</p>
<p>
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
<br>Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
<br>“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
<br>Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
<br>Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
<br><span class="indent">Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
<br>Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
<br>Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
<br>On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
<br>Is there—<i>is</i> there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
<br><span class="indent">Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
<br>By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
<br>Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
<br>It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
<br>Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
<br><span class="indent">Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
<br>“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
<br>Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
<br>Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
<br>Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
<br><span class="indent">Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, <i>still</i> is sitting
<br>On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
<br>And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
<br>And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
<br>And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
<br><span class="indent">Shall be lifted—nevermore!</span>
</p>
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