Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many curious volumes of forgotten lore,-
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly, there came a tapping,
As if someone gently rapping, rapping on my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping on my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly, I wished the morrow, for in vain I sought to borrow
From my books, surcease of sorrow,-sorrow for the lost Lenore,-
The rare and radiant woman whom the angels named Lenore,-
Nameless here forever more.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me,-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before
So that, 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,
Only this and nothing more.
Presently, my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer
"Sir," said I, "or madam, 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 was scarce sure I heard you you."-Here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams that no mortal even tried to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
This I whispered, and echo murmured back the whispered 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," I said, "Surely that is something at my window-lattice;
Let me see 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 then 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 of 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 he wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, tho," said I "Art sure no craven;
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wanderidng 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 but agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird and beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such a 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-
'Til 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, 'til his song one burden bore,
'Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore,-
Of 'never, nevermore.'"
But the raven still beguiling all my sad 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 with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore.
Then methought the air grew denser, purfumed by an unseen censor,
Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls twinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch!" I cried "Thy god hath lent thee! By these angels he hath sent thee,
Respite, respote and nepenthe from the memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O, 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, in this home by horror haunted,
In this desert land enchanted,-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 the heaven that bends above us, by the 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 fair and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of 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 the 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 that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
