User:Shai/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 visiter,” 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door --
 * Some late visiter 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;--
 * '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 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 that melancholy burden bore
 * Of 'Never -- nevermore'.”
 * But the Raven still beguiling my sad 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 name Lenore --
 * Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
 * Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 * ”Be that word our sign in 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!
 * Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
 * ”Be that word our sign in 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!
 * And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
 * Shall be lifted -- nevermore!