But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said "Nevermore." ​再读《乌鸦》。 ​仿佛行走在冥河岸边，雾影蒙蒙，鬼影憧憧。四周寂静，只有风在拨弄枝叶，只有乌鸦在枝头安歇。 这一路行走艰难，既行且歇，心中思绪满溢，如浪击礁岩。 有无望，有决绝，有对逝去的人的思念；有安慰，有怀念，有张开双臂的坦然，有面对黑暗侵蚀，主动进行的迎接。