The Raven

The Raven - Basil Rathbone/Edgar Allan Poe

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

It's 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 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

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 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 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 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 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