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 named 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 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 above 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 will he 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 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, 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 has 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 named 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!