The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I
pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and
curious volume of
forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly
napping, suddenly
there came a tapping,
As of some one gently
rapping, rapping at my
chamber door.
''Tis some visitor,' I
muttered, 'tapping at my
chamber door-
Only this, and nothing
more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember
it was in the bleak
December,
And each separate dying ember
wrought its
ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the
morrow;- vainly I had
sought to borrow
From my books surcease of
sorrow- sorrow
for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant
maiden whom the
angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for
evermore.
And the silken sad
uncertain rustling of each
purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me
with fantastic terrors
never felt before;
So that now, to still the
beating of my heart, I
stood repeating,
''Tis some visitor
entreating entrance at my
chamber door-
Some late visitor
entreating entrance at my
chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing
more.'
Presently my soul grew
stronger; hesitating
then no longer,
'Sir,' said I, 'or Madam,
truly your forgiveness
I implore;
But the fact is I was
napping, and so gently
you came rapping,
And so faintly you came
tapping, tapping at
my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I
heard you'- here I
opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and
nothing more.
Deep into that darkness
peering, long I stood
there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams
no mortals ever
dared to dream before;
But the silence was
unbroken, and the
stillness gave no token,
And the only word there
spoken was the
whispered word, 'Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an
echo murmured
back the word, 'Lenore!'-
Merely this, and nothing
more.
Back into the chamber
turning, all my soul
within me burning,
Soon again I heard a
tapping somewhat
louder than before.
'Surely,' said I, 'surely
that is something at
my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what
thereat is, and this
mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a
moment and this
mystery explore;-
'Tis the wind and nothing
more.'
Open here I flung the
shutter, when, with
many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a
stately raven of the saintly
days of yore;
Not the least obeisance
made he; not a
minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or
lady, perched above
my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of
Pallas just above my
chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and
nothing more.
Then this ebony bird
beguiling my sad fancy
into smiling,
By the grave and stern
decorum of the
countenance it wore.
'Though thy crest be
shorn and shaven, thou,'
I said, 'art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient
raven wandering
from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly
name is on the
Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the Raven,
'Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this
ungainly fowl to hear
discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little
meaning- little
relevancy bore;
For we cannot help
agreeing that no living
human being
Ever yet was blest with
seeing bird above his
chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the
sculptured bust above
his chamber door,
With such name as
'Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting
lonely on the placid
bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his
soul in that one word
he did outpour.
Nothing further then he
uttered- not a feather
then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than
muttered, 'other
friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will
leave me, as my hopes
have flown before.'
Then the bird said,
'Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness
broken by reply so
aptly spoken,
'Doubtless,' said I,
'what it utters is its only
stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy
master whom
unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and
followed faster till his
songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his
Hope that melancholy
burden bore
Of 'Never- nevermore'.'
But the Raven still
beguiling all my fancy into
smiling,
Straight I wheeled a
cushioned seat in front
of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet
sinking, I betook myself
to linking
Fancy unto fancy,
thinking what this ominous
bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly,
ghastly, gaunt and
ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking
'Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in
guessing, but no
syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery
eyes now burned into
my bosom's core;
This and more I sat
divining, with my head at
ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet
lining that the
lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet
lining with the
lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah,
nevermore!
Then methought the air
grew denser,
perfumed from an unseen
censer
Swung by Seraphim whose
footfalls tinkled
on the tufted floor.
'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy
God hath lent thee- by
these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and
nepenthe, from thy
memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind
nepenthe and forget
this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the Raven,
'Nevermore.'
'Prophet!' said I, 'thing
of evil!- prophet still,
if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or
whether tempest
tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all
undaunted, on this desert
land enchanted-
On this home by horror
haunted- tell me
truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm
in Gilead?- tell me-
tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the Raven,
'Nevermore.'
'Prophet!' said I, 'thing
of evil- prophet still, if
bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends
above us- by that
God we both adore-
Tell this soul with
sorrow laden if, within the
distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted
maiden whom the
angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant
maiden whom the
angels name Lenore.'
Quoth the Raven,
'Nevermore.'
'Be that word our sign in
parting, bird or
fiend,' I shrieked,
upstarting-
'Get thee back into the
tempest and the
Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a
token of that lie
thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness
unbroken!- quit the bust
above my door!
Take thy beak from out my
heart, and take
thy form from off my
door!'
Quoth the Raven,
'Nevermore.'
And the Raven, never
flitting, still is sitting,
still is sitting
On the pallid bust of
Pallas just above my
chamber door;
And his eyes have all the
seeming of a
demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er
him streaming throws
his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that
shadow that lies
floating on the floor
Shall be lifted-
nevermore!
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