The Raven

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
Mortal ever dared 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 an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more. Back into the

Chamber turning, all my soul within me burning
Soon I heard again 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 an instant 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 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 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 the melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never—nevermore'." But the Raven still

Beguiling all my sad soul 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 Yancy, 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 lamp-light gloated 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 and denser,Perfumed from an unseen censer swung
By Seraphim whose foot-falls 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 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 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 above my chamber door
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's 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
Shall be lifted—nevermore!