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 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 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, 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 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!
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