| The Raven |
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| By: Edgar Allen Poe |
| 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 seperate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; -vainly I had sought to borrow From my books sucrease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- From the rare and radient maiden whom the angles name 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 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;- That 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 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 stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispereb, 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 that before. "Surely," I said, "surely that is someone 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 statley Raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with a 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, "Through thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering fron the nightly shore- Tell me what your lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore." Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Through its answer little meaning-little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing a bird above his chamber door- Bird or beast upon the sculptuers 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 farther than he uttered-not a feather than he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered,"Other friends have flown before- On the morrow he he will leaves me,as my hopes have flown before- Quoth the raven,"Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken by relpy so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Cought 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 upon fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of your- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly. gaunt. and ominious bird of yore Meant in croaking, "Nevermore." |