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 there 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, he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd above my chamber-doorPerch'd upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-doorPerched and sat, and nothing more. Then, this ebon 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 marvell'd this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 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 Follow'd fast and follow'd 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 wheel'd a cushion'd 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 yoreWhat this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore!" This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 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! "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 word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shriek'd, 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 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 floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted- NEVERMORE! THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. NE more unfortunate, O Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Take her up tenderly, Look at her garments, Whilst the wave constantly Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly, Touch her not scornfully, Make no deep scrutiny Rash and undutiful; Past all dishonor, Death has left on her Only the beautiful. Still, for all slips of hers, Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home? Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? Alas for the rarity Near a whole city full, Home she had none. Sisterly, brotherly, Feelings were changed; Where the lamps quiver The bleak winds of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river: In she plunged boldly, Lave in it, drink of it Take her up tenderly, |