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 someone 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 forevermore.
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 the 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, something
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 the 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 blessed 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 that 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."
Thus 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, 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 al l 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 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 that lie
thy soul 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!
