Come the morrow dawn was lifting; dreams were melting, thoughts were sifting.
In the sunlight thoughts of Lenore; tears alight my bedroom floor.
Then I thought my nighttime dreaming was a nightmare too true seeming;
Then I thought my nightmare’s dreaming took its power from Lenore.
And my soul leapt from the shadow as I heard my love, Lenore:
she who’d bust a buzz-saw snore.
* * *
Well, I mean… why not?!? Write a final stanza of a classic (The Raven), and change the overriding tone of the poem. But keep the meter and rhyme — including the internal rhyme — scheme.