Poetry

The Meeting

The Raven

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 angles named 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 the still 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 hear 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 in to 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 your;
Not the lease obeisance made he;
not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But,with men of lord or lady,
perched above my chamber door--

Perched,and say,and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my
sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum
of the countenance it wore,
"Thought thy crest be shorn and shaven,
thou," I said,"are sure no craven,
Ghastly grin and ancient Raven
wandering from the Nightly shore--
Tell what thy lordly name is on
the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marveled 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,spole only
That one word,as if his 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---
One the marrow HE will leave me,
as my hopes have flown before."

Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken
vby 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
my sad 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 foot-falls
tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried,"thy God hath lent thee
by these angles he hath sent thee
Respite---respite and nepenthe from
thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff,of quaff this kind nepenthe
and forget this lost Lenore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I,"thing of evil!---prophet still,
if bird of 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 of 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 angles name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden
who the angles name Lenore.."

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting,
bird of fiend!" I shrieked, unstarting---
"Get thee back into the tempest
and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as 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 by lifted---nevermore!

-- Edgar Allen Poe--

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