![\"Me.\"](\"http:\/\/farm8.staticflickr.com\/7158\/6457098191_82abde5599.jpg\" "\\"Me.\\"")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The Raven
\nEdgar Allan Poe
\n1845<\/p>\n
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
\nOver many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
\nWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
\nAs of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
\n`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
\nOnly this, and nothing more.’<\/p>\n
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
\nAnd each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
\nEagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
\nFrom my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
\nFor the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
\nNameless here for evermore.<\/p>\n
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
\nThrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
\nSo that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
\n`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
\nSome late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
\nThis it is, and nothing more,’<\/p>\n
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
\n`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
\nBut the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
\nAnd so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
\nThat I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
\nDarkness there, and nothing more.<\/p>\n
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
\nDoubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
\nBut the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
\nAnd the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
\nThis I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
\nMerely this and nothing more.<\/p>\n
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
\nSoon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
\n`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
\nLet me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
\nLet my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
\n‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’<\/p>\n
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
\nIn there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
\nNot the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
\nBut, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
\nPerched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
\nPerched, and sat, and nothing more.<\/p>\n
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
\nBy the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
\n`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
\nGhastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
\nTell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
\nQuoth the raven, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
\nThough its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
\nFor we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
\nEver yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
\nBird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
\nWith such name as `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
\nThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
\nNothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
\nTill I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before –
\nOn the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
\nThen the bird said, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
\n`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
\nCaught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
\nFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –
\nTill the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
\nOf “Never-nevermore.”‘<\/p>\n
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
\nStraight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
\nThen, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
\nFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore –
\nWhat this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
\nMeant in croaking `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
\nTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
\nThis and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
\nOn the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
\nBut whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
\nShe shall press, ah, nevermore!<\/p>\n
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
\nSwung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
\n`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
\nRespite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
\nQuaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
\nQuoth the raven, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! –
\nWhether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
\nDesolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
\nOn this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
\nIs there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
\nQuoth the raven, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
\nBy that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
\nTell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
\nIt shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
\nClasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
\nQuoth the raven, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
\n`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
\nLeave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
\nLeave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
\nTake thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
\nQuoth the raven, `Nevermore.’<\/p>\n
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
\nOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
\nAnd his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
\nAnd the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
\nAnd my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
\nShall be lifted – nevermore!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"