The Raven |
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint & 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 & 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 morow; ---- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow ---- sorrow for the lost Lenore ---- For the rare & 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 fanastic 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 & nothing more." Preserntly my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," sai I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, & so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you cames tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you" ---- here I open wide the door; ---- Darkness there & 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, & the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?" This I whispered, & an echo murmered back the word, "Lenore!" Merely this & nothing more. Back into yht chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat ;ouder that before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, & this mystery explore ---- Let my heart be still a moment & this mystery explore; ---- " 'Tis the wind & nothing more!" Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt & flutter, In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintl days of youre; Not the least obesiance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, oerched above my chamber door ---- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ---- Perched, & sat, & nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave & stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Thought thy crest shorn & shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly frim & ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore ---- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Pllutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven "Nevermore." Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning ---- little revlevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was bledded with seeing bird above his chamber door ---- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such a 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 it only stock & store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast & followed faster til his songs one burden bore ---- Till this 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, & bust & 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, & omnious bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." <<<Back to the Poetry Continued >>> |