Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have blown,
To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne,
Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf.
Joy, joy forever!—my task is done,
The gates are passed, and Heaven is won!"

NCE 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.

""T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my

ber-door,

Only this, and nothing more."

cham

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,

lost Lenore,

sorrow for the

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name

Lenore,

VOL. XIII.

Nameless here forevermore.

7

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,

“”T is some visitor, entreating entrance at my chamber

door,

Some late visitor, entreating entrance at my chamberdoor;

That it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger: hesitating then no longer,

66

"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,

door,

tapping at my

chamber

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

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my cham

Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamberdoor,

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

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 blest with seeing bird above his chamberdoor,

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamberdoor,

With such name as

66 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

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,