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:
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silke 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 vistitor entreting 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
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, 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 therat 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
nights 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 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,
Till I scarcely more then mutterd,-"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 melencholy
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 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
lamp-light gloated o`er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the
lamp-light gloated o`er
She shall press,ah,nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew 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 qaff this nepenthe, and
foget 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 of 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 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!