It’s a Poem…
A Craven.
Equivokes so dreary, tired and weary,
Silently pondering volumes extolling this by-now obsolete lore.
During my rather long nap - the weirdest tap!
An ominous vibrating sound disturbing my chamber's antedoor.
"This", I whispered quietly, "We ignore".
Perfectly, the intellect remembers: the ghostly fires, the glittering ember.
Inflamed by lightning's outbursts, windows cast penumbras on this floor.
Sorrowful, as badly mistreated, unhappy thoughts I considered:
That peerless lesson in elegance - Lenore – Is enticing, exciting...nevermore.
Ominously, curtains parted (my serenity outsmarted),
And fear overcame my being - the fear of "forevermore".
Fearful foreboding abided, selfish sentiment confided,
As I said, "Methinks mysterious traveler knocks afore. Old man is visiting, of age threescore."
Taking little time, briskly saying something: "Sir," (robustly)
"Tell what source is clamorous noise afore?
Disturbing sleep unkindly, is it you a-tapping, so slyly?
Why, devil incarnate!--"
Here completely unveiled open my antedoor-- Just darkness, I ascertained - nothing more.
While surrounded with darkness then, I persevered to clearly comprehend.
I perceived the weirdest dream...of everlasting "nevermores".
Quite, quite, quick nocturnal spectres fled - such relief! - as my intellect said,
(Desiring, imagining still) that perchance the apparition was uttering a whispered "Lenore".
This only, as evermore.
(after Edgar Allen Poe, "The Raven")
You can validate your puzzle solution with certitude.