diff options
Diffstat (limited to '1065-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 1065-0.txt | 137 |
1 files changed, 137 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/1065-0.txt b/1065-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9e76b08 --- /dev/null +++ b/1065-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,137 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1065 *** + +The Raven + + +by + +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 visiter,” 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 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 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; + 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. + “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 the 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 that placid bust, spoke only + That one word, as if its 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.” + + 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 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 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 has 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 shadows on the floor; + And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor + Shall be lifted—nevermore! + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1065 *** |