(For the record, a maven is an expert on a certain subject.)

Once upon a school day dreary while I studied, weak and weary
Over many a worn-out book of soon-to-be-forgotten lore.
While I daydreamed, nearly napping, suddenly, there came a tapping,
As of someone harshly rapping, rapping on my tomes of bore.
"'Tis the teacher," thus I muttered, "tapping on my tomes of bore.
Only this and nothing more."

Tho I've got no recollection of the time of this discretion,
Surely this event was too extravagant to just ignore.
Eagerly I wished the ending, vainly acting and pretending
That the work of sentence-mending was a task I did adore.
As though the act of labeling the adjectives I did adore,
That I loved, and nothing more.

And the screeching, shrieking piece of chalk did lend me no more peace
As up and down in scrawled out sentences it went upon the board.
As the punishment was ordered, I felt as a rat that's cornered,
Taken, hung and drawn and quartered there upon the schoolroom floor,
Amongst the others who have sat upon that dusty schoolroom floor,
Nameless here for evermore.

Presently, my thoughts grew stronger, keeping silent there no longer.
"Sir," said I, "My mind was merely dreaming of that splendid lore.
For the fact is, I was learning, and the page my eye was burning
With the sort of longing yearning that my heart desires for more,
With the strong addictive craving for the books and wanting more.
That I want, and nothing more."

Long into that face I squinted, watching steely eyes that glinted
And I watched for moves that hinted that my words were not ignored.
But the silence was unbroken, and the teacher gave no token
That my mouth had even spoken words that meant I did adore,
Words that had the meaning that the useless works I did adore.
That I said and nothing more.

Back down to the desk I sighted, sensing that my words were slighted
For the class had now been silenced by my loud ungodly snore.
"Surely," said I, "you will leave me, for I know you must believe me.
Please just say you won't bereave me, for you know I did not roar.
You know that I was thinking, and not sleeping while I gave a roar.
Hushed I was, and nothing more!"

Turning here I ‘gan to stutter, cooling winds gave me a shudder,
And the forming words upon the lips of Teacher did implore.
Was I mindful of the treating of a soul whose been caught cheating
Into sleep, consciousness fleeting, fleeting to sleep's mystic door?
To the Maven I'd be sent for visiting sleep's mystic door.
This he said and nothing more.

Here I laughed now, feeling dizzy, as my thoughts made my mind busy,
I stood up and started forward, toward the teacher's cold black door.
"Though I may seem most suspicious, this," I said, "was not malicious.
It must be your strange delicious way of revenge, this low chore.
Tell me why you do condemn me to suffice you with this chore!"
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

Astonished now, I turned ‘round bracing self and feeling weak heart racing,
And my eyes did settle on the form from which all sin did pour.
For all cannot help agreeing that upon this foul form seeing,
One should presently be fleeing through the hall and out the door.
One should, terrified, be fleeing quickly out the school's front door.
Swiftly thus, and nothing more.

And the Maven, standing slightly forward, looking somewhat spritely
Gave a smile that could only freeze my blood and infect sore.
Nothing more disturbing uttered than that which the Maven muttered
When my tongue so quickly fluttered, "Other guides have quit before,
In a moment, he will leave me, as those teachers have before."
Then the brute said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the silence broken by this one word, cruelly spoken,
"Doubtful," said I, "That your threat of this one word is much to store,
Caught from one whose decayed morals are as fresh as wilted florals,
I'll be having no more quarrels over that which is a bore.
Over classes dragging over hours on end that prove a bore.
Now I cease and say no more!"

But the Maven stood, unjaded, ‘till I realized my hatred
For this beast that others never ‘gainst this man would dare implore.
And I stood there, still refusing to succumb to their abusing
Taking hold against accusing from this vicious carnivore.
What an animal this man was, this crude, wiley carnivore,
As it muttered, "Nevermore."

There I clutched my hands in tightly, giving no clue, even slightly
That I did indeed fear every word the Maven did outpour.
And I stood there, feeling simple, as the Maven's glowering dimples
Scowled out, creating ripples on my stolid, distant core.
On the part of me that vowed I would not let him to my core.
That I pledged and nothing more.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, and my muscles thus were tenser,
As my eyes dropped down in anger to the dusty schoolroom floor.
"Wretch," I breathed, "you fiendish traitor, ghastly serpent and berater,
That you are and nothing greater, you unsightly carnivore!
Grotesque monster that you are and unbecoming carnivore!"
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

"Expert!" said I, "thing of evil! - expert still if man or devil!-
Whether dean did send or whether from the black depths you were tore,
Dejected, but yet truly wicked, maladies you're thus afflicted,
And it's by your choice, elected as the one our fears explore.
Tell me, are you so depraved as our unnerving fears explore?"
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

"Expert!" said I, "thing of evil! - expert still if man or devil!-
Tell us please by word unbroken, here by all I do implore!
Tell this soul with remorse laden thick enough for all to wade in
If the hardened chair I'll fade in is too much for my base chore.
Tell me if that wooden spike is too much for my sorry chore!"
Quoth the Maven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our hastened parting, man or cur!" I said, now starting.
"Get thee back into thy office full of massacre and gore!
Leave me no detention paper, leave instead, one for the framer,
For it was an April's gamer earning to be shown the door!
Yes, it was a simpleton who wanted to be shown the door!
That it is and nothing more!"

But the Maven, not admitting he was wrong, I still am sitting
On that dreadful chair that's only spoken of in ancient lore.
And his figure there, repulsive, sits alone and seems offensive,
Hunched over and unattractive there, that lonely carnivore,
And my soul from out that shadow of the beastly carnivore
Shall be lifted - nevermore!