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, something louder than before.

66

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 ex

plore ;

'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
as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that 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 ex

pressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's

core ;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease re

clining

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,