by Edgar Allan Poe

    Once upon a midnight dreary¹， while I pondered， weak and weary，

    Over many a quaint² 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 chamber³ door——

    "'Tis some visitor，" I muttered， "tapping at my chamber door——

    Only this and nothing more."

    Ah， distinctly I remember it was in the bleak⁴ December；

    And each separate dying ember wrought⁵ 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 maiden⁶ whom the angels name Lenore——

    Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken， sad， uncertain rustling⁷ 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 entreating⁸ 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 implore⁹；

    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 shutter¹¹， when， with many a flirt¹² and flutter，

    In there stepped a stately Raven¹³ of the saintly days of yore；

    Not the least obeisance¹⁴ made he； not a minute stopped or stayed he；

    But， with mien¹⁵ of lord or lady， perched above my chamber door——

    Perched upon a bust¹⁶ of Pallas just above my chamber door——

    Perched， and sat， and nothing more.

    Then this ebony bird beguiling¹⁷ my sad fancy into smiling，

    By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance¹⁸ it wore，

    "Though thy crest¹⁹ 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 marvelled²⁰ this ungainly fowl²¹ to hear discourse²² so plainly，

    Though its answer little meaning——little relevancy bore；

    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

    Ever yet was blest 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 placid²³ bust， spoke¹⁰ 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 dirges²⁴ of his Hope that melancholy²⁵ burden bore

    Of 'Never——nevermore.'"

    But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling，

    Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird， and bust and door；

    Then， upon the velvet²⁶ sinking， I betook myself to linking

    Fancy unto fancy， thinking what this ominous²⁷ bird of yore——

    What this grim， ungainly， ghastly， gaunt and ominous bird of yore

    Meant in croaking²⁸ "Nevermore."

    This I sat engaged in guessing， but no syllable²⁹ expressing

    To the fowl whose fiery³⁰ 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 lining³¹ 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 denser³²， perfumed from an unseen censer

    Swung by Seraphim³³ whose foot-falls tinkled³⁴ 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；

    Quaff³⁵， 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 ashore³⁶，

    Desolate³⁷ 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 laden³⁸ 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 shrieked³⁹， upstarting——

    "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore！

    Leave no black plume⁴⁰ as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken！

    Leave my loneliness unbroken！——quit the bust above my door！

    Take thy beak⁴¹ 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 pallid⁴² 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！

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