i was walking on the path
—all swallowed in my coat.
followed by my eyes ahead of me there walked a lonesome crow
—he did not like the snow.

—he spoke to me a riddle, said "Do you, fellow, count crows? A murder always has meaning, so here's how it goes,"

Forthwith I begged pardon,

With a craven-heart hardened-

he began, abruptly.
"ONE for sadness,"

"TWO for mirth,"

"THREE means marriage,"

"FOUR means birth,"

"FIVE are for laughter,"

"SIX knows you're crying,"

"SEVEN come for the sickness,"

"EIGHT stay for the dying,"

"NINE quite likes silver,"

"TEN prefers gold,"