| |
| 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 visiter,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door— | 5 |
| 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— | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| ‘’Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door— | |
| Some late visiter 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; | 20 |
| 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, | 25 |
| Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal 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. | 30 |
| |
| 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;— | 35 |
| ’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— | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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; | 50 |
| For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being | |
| Ever yet was blessed 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 | 55 |
| 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.’ | 60 |
| |
| 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 | 65 |
| 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— | 70 |
| 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 | 75 |
| 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. | 80 |
| ‘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!— | 85 |
| 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.’ | 90 |
| |
| ‘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.’ | 95 |
| 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! | 100 |
| 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, | 105 |
| 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! | |
| |
