"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, 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 mys

tery explore:

'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many

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.

Ghastly, grim, and

ancient Raven, wan

dering 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,

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

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 lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining, with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!