Through aisle after aisle we went, among couches innumerable.

I could see only a few of them at once, but they were on all sides, vanishing, as it seemed, in the infinite .-- Was it here lay my choice of a bed?
Must I go to sleep among the unwaking, with no one to rouse me?
Was this the sexton's library?
were these his books?
Truly it was no half-way house, this chamber of the dead! "One of the cellars I am placed to watch!" remarked Mr.Raven--in a low voice, as if fearing to disturb his silent guests.

"Much wine is set here to ripen!--But it is dark for a stranger!" he added.
"The moon is rising; she will soon be here," said his wife, and her clear voice, low and sweet, sounded of ancient sorrow long bidden adieu.
Even as she spoke the moon looked in at an opening in the wall, and a thousand gleams of white responded to her shine.

But not yet could I descry beginning or end of the couches.

They stretched away and away, as if for all the disparted world to sleep upon.