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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- 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 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 mortals 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 threat
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 blest 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 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 lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the
lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then methought
the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim
whose footfalls 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 lamplight
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!
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