Then this 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 the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did out pour. 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 Dis aster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore The Raven 2987 ven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust >or; the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, rim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird croaking "Nevermore." gaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing vhose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's e I sat divining, with my head at ease reclinn's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated et violet lining with the lamp-light gloating ah, nevermore! the air grew denser, perfumed from an un im whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted d, "thy God hath lent thee-by these sent thee d nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! is kind nepenthe, and forget this lost "Nevermore." "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or ht, or whether tempest tossed thee here unted, on this desert land enchantedfor haunted-tell me truly, I implore: n in Gilead?-tell me-tell me, I im 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 word 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 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 be lifted-nevermore! Edgar Allan Poe [1809-1849] THE BELLS I HEAR the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! The Bells 2989 ow they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In a sort of Runic rhyme, the tintinabulation that so musically wells rom the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. - II Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! hat a world of happiness their harmony foretells! How they ring out their delight! And all in tune, What a liquid ditty floats the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! Oh, from out the sounding cells, hat a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells! How it dwells On the future; how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells- o the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen bells! 'hat a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor What a tale their terror tells How they clang, and clash, and roar! By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells; Of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells→→→ In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! What a world of solemn thought their melody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! |