The poem below is an exact anagram of the 4905 characters in Edgar Allan Poe's poem The Raven (checked by computer for correctness). Since Poe was a notorious reviser, one still sees variations in a few lines of printed versions of The Raven, so to be rigorous here is the text of Poe's poem that I used to form the anagram. Note that the titles ("The Raven, the famous poem by Edgar Allan Poe", and "Raven Two") are part of the anagram.
This poem won a "Grand Anagrammy Award - Special Category" from the readers of Anagrammy.com for the best anagram of the year 1999 . We believe this is the first anagram of a text of this size ever constructed, and that it single-handedly jump-started the long anagram as a literary form, which now flourishes on Anagrammy.com and elsewhere.
Raven TwoOnce upon an April swelt'ring, as I blubbered, nearly melting, Through my grandson's even-chambered house's small hartberry plot, Damn! While pre-ill, bathtub-dreaming, all the evening housetops steaming, Suddenly, pell-mell, I marveled, birth'd a little sunny thought. "Let's go revelling," I ventured, "somewhere where it's ever not So interminably hot!" As I sat in thoughtful heaven, it was nineteen ninety seven; (I remember this - it happened that Ralph's beaver ran away.) Terribly I wished for cooling - season's cash I started pooling "Let's," I thought, "repair to Devon seaside, even for a day. Babbacombe this forenoon! - let us hobnob on the beach today! Teignmouth, Bramble, or Torquay?" I was then most promptly certain; son, I flung aside the curtain! And I peered inside to see the wife, Lenore, in negligee. "Very hot, it's hell" I muttered, then, brethren, I roughly uttered, "Hell, Lenore, let's flee this burg, let's head South for a getaway! I've in mind a day or mo' of harbor, maybe in Torquay?" Then she muttered, "Um, why Torquay?" Hot I quarreled (felon, sinner); finally I came a winner, So we headed off in search of beach-naps there on Mother Day. Bah! In tights, prayerlessly driving, something in my brain was jiving, For nepenthe this mortal striving, over barren M-five roadway; Here a simple statement - why was it still on my mind that day? She had trembled, "Why Torquay?" High-born, I must heave confession: software running's my profession. So it's non-surprising that I tho't, bebothered, at the shore; "Y Torquay" something suggested; in a trice my brain had belted: "Y-to-k" we 'uld be having in three years and little more - These clove-hooven nerds had only used two bytes the year to store! Digits torment? Nevermore! You might think that I got messed up, but I must admit and 'fess up - All that I could see were thrills and fatter pots of revenue. Fast as neon 'lectrons hop (how?): London! - open hence a shop now! Load up, go about and make 'em tremble (hell-felt ballyhoo)! Bent to make the whole world know...but first, to have an Irish stew. Home, Lenore! - let's "entre nous". Borne home north - bah! - to McDonald's, had a damn tell-fest with Ronald. "Herb," I said, "you need me more than anyone that's dealt before." Marvel! I'll your software patch up, manly as a squirt of ketchup! If you laugh me off then I'll motor to your competitor! Heed my grammar, or you'll have heartburn - hah, don't show me the door! Thumbs, he hurled me from the store. Tenth, I trod the local Chamber; "Commerce," I averred, "'s in danger. We must halt yon system, else the government come crashing down!" Then they sat in torrent, humming, not a syllable there mumming. Then I tho't, "They're pondering the birth, man, of this little town!" "Argh," they burp'd, "Who hears? What government?" and gave me a McFrown. Hence they all grinned, evil-clown. Then methought the hall grew denser (my harsh thought got bleeped by censor); As I tartly left I pondered what approach I best should take. "They don't know about computers, from their teachers or their tutors, So perhaps I should connote disaster, evil, flood, earthquake." "Rheum!" I thought, "that's it! I'll have them fear a terrible outbreak. I'll give them a mammoth ache!" So I started newly stumping (with a little Bible-thumping), Telling everyone the world would rend unless they heeded me. "Not mere home computers, people!" - this I said beneath the steeple - There are several things that need a software patch, and rapidly." "Listen, please," I raved, here sit some things that need AI rapidly, Or there'll be catastrophe!" "From propellor, runner, rollmop, propane burner or barn doorstop, Sheep-shearing machine or thrinter, or this pronged biplanar fan:" "Learn, indeed!", the rant continued, "everyone that's been north knows you'd Better shelve these gadgets ere two thousand's post-meridian! Death to revellers, for they will seek in vain for a CAT scan! It will not work, nor will man!" This might seem a little nervy, and you might entone me "scurvy", But it worked far better than those terrors I had used before. Thrum! My phones were always ringing - ever' month I spent a-singing As I went about in search of things to add two digits more. What a time in Greenwich! - men adored me like no one before. I felt, then, as strong as Thor. Think in this that I was greedy? I thought of myself as needy! I imagined Northern living, stepping off of this rat race. If I grooved my little (bleep) off, like that engineer named Kirkhoff, Anon I'd bring forth a big nest egg, find a little northern place. Me and her might settle down, might live the flannel life some place. Maybe northern outer space? So, I stepped up my endeavor - I was thriving, monstrous clever! And I hired several helpers to assist me with my scheme. "Now," I said, "I need a logo." - first I thought of the name "Gogo", Since the "Waiting for Godot" plan seemed a rather fitting theme; I won't tell how long I spent in this diverting midday dream - Then I stopped for tea and cream. Was I done then? No, sirree man! I got started planting oat bran, 'Cause you never know...hum...all the food around might disappear! "One stop planning!" - so the ads ran - "Chips of both kinds, every corn, man!" And the orders flooded in, for front-dried pond fish, fresh corn ears. Bluebush, too, and canned goods guaranteed to last over a year. Had to finger a cashier. As the nineteen-nineties ended, and my bran account extended, I decided after Y-to-k my ease was not years off. So I started reading law books, hanging out in library nooks, So that I could delve into the art of suing one's pants off. Yes, for sure, I'll make a bundle sinning, sending pants right off! I'll reap quite a big rip-off. One day as I chomped on horn-backs, suddenly was anticlimax! Y-to-k had come and gone then: nothing but a minor "hmph"! I had merely one misgiving - that the Spice Girls still were living - Otherwise, the Bronx survived; no terrors - everyone was well. No apocalypse had come; it wasn't (darn!) a living hell. Softly pealed th'veranda bell. It's two thousand one - I'm spinning, in my parlor I am nestling, Near a torrid bust of Turing just above my north throne door; Every morn I'm merely thankful, that he helped to make my bank full As I think of Thatcher, COBOL rooms, other damn dinosaurs; And this life of leisure those contingents did to me outpour Shall be lifted - nevermore!