The Raven
by Edgar Allan 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 some one gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door. |
| " 'T is 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 |
| " 'T is 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 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
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; - |
'T is 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 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 farther 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 - never more.' "
|
| 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."
|
| 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, 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 named 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 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!
|
| Edgar Allan Poe | Classic
Poems |
