Once upon a mid-day dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious bracket of forgotten code,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my window’s core.
`’Tis some gamer,’ I muttered, `tapping at my window’s core -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember longing for some code assembler,
And each separate dying ember of TR burned upon its shard.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my code surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Asgard -
For the rare and radiant realm whom designers named Asgard -
Nameless at NC for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each tabbed routine
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some gamer entreating entrance at my window’s core -
Some strange hardcore gamer looking for Richard at my window’s core; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my window’s core,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the window; -
Sunlight there, and nothing more.

Deep into that sunlight peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming code no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the sunlight gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Codewhore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, ` Codewhore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the office turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately card’nal of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my office door -
Perched upon a bust of Richard just above my office door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this rosy bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient card’nal wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Day’s Tabulian shore!’
Quoth the card’nal, ‘Code’s a bore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his office door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his office door,
With such name as ‘Code’s a bore.’

But the card’nal, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
Those few words, as if his soul in those few words 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 code has flown before.’
Then the bird said, ‘Code’s a bore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy coder whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his code one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Code’s a bloody f-ing bore.”‘

But the card’nal still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the Airon sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking ‘Code’s a bore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my PC’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the Airon’s webbed lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose webbed dark grey lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Guildies whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted shard.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these gamers he has sent thee
Terror – Terror and griefers from thy memories of Asgard!
Gank, oh gank these cruel offenders, and forget this lost Asgard!’
Quoth the card’nal, ‘Code’s a bore.’

`Griefer!’ said I, `thing of evil! – griefer still, if bird or gamer! -
Whether Webzen sent, or whether Sony tossed thee here ashore,
Yellow-beaked yet all undaunted, on this cluttered desk enchanted -
With my code by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there balm in Logos? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the card’nal, ‘Code’s a bore.’

`Griefer!’ said I, `thing of evil! – gamer still, if bird or pharmer!
By that Eloh that bends above us – by that Thrax we both adore -
Tell this soul with code-base laden if, within the distant d-base,
It shall clasp a sainted feature which the Bosses can’t ignore -
Clasp a rare and radiant feature, which the Bosses can’t ignore?’
Quoth the card’nal, ‘There’s the door.’

`Be that phrase our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the game and the Day’s Tabulian shore!
Leave no red plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my sorry code unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my code, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the card’nal, ‘Code’s a bore.’

And the card’nal, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Richard just above my office door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a griefer’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my code from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!