The Radio

Once upon a workday dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of scientific lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my speaker floor.
"'Tis the radio," I muttered, "tapping at my speaker floor -
Only this, and nothing more."

Open here I clicked the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there popped a stately window of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made it; not a minute stopped or stayed;
But, with mien of lord or lady, demanded that I pay more -
Demanded a dollar for the music of saved hope -
Demanded, silenced, that I pay more.

"Be that popup our sign in parting, Pandora or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the silence from my speaker!
Take thy diode from out my heart, and take thy form from off my computer!"
Quoth the Radio, "Just Pay More."

And the Radio, never changing, still is sitting, still is sitting
Denying any music o'er the Pandora on my computer;
And its eyes have all the seeming of an accountant's that is dreaming,
And the dsl o'er it streaming throws its unearthly threat on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

*Sorry Mr. Poe and any fans. Just something I thought of as I sit here staring as my 40 hours apperate into the air. If anyone doesn't understand just go here and all will make sense.