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| Once upon a midnight dreary, | |
| Over many a quaint and curious volume of | |
| While I nodded, nearly napping, | |
| As of some one gently rapping, | |
| ''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, | |
| Only this, | |
| Ah, distinctly I remember | |
| And each separate dying ember | |
| Eagerly I wished the morrow;- | |
| From my books surcease of sorrow- | |
| For the rare and radiant maiden | |
| Nameless here | |
| And the silken sad uncertain | |
| Thrilled me- filled me with | |
| So that now, to still the beating | |
| ''Tis some visitor entreating entrance | |
| Some late visitor entreating entrance | |
| This it is, | |
| Presently my soul grew stronger; | |
| 'Sir,' said I, 'or Madam, | |
| But the fact is I was napping, | |
| And so faintly you came tapping, | |
| That I scarce was sure I heard you'- | |
| Darkness there, | |
| Deep into that darkness peering, | |
| Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals | |
| But the silence was unbroken, | |
| And the only word there spoken | |
| This I whispered, and an echo | |
| Merely this, | |
| Back into the chamber turning, | |
| Soon again I heard a tapping | |
| 'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is | |
| Let me see, then, what thereat is, | |
| Let my heart be still a moment | |
| 'Tis the wind | |
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| Open here I flung the shutter, when, | |
| In there stepped a stately raven | |
| Not the least obeisance made he; | |
| But, with mien of lord or lady, | |
| Perched upon a bust of Pallas | |
| Perched, and sat, | |
| Then this ebony bird beguiling | |
| By the grave and stern decorum | |
| 'Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, | |
| Ghastly grim and ancient raven | |
| Tell me what thy lordly name is | |
| Quoth the Raven, | |
| Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl | |
| Though its answer little meaning- | |
| For we cannot help agreeing | |
| Ever yet was blest with seeing | |
| Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust | |
| With such name as | |
| But the raven, sitting lonely | |
| That one word, as if his soul in that one word | |
| Nothing further then he uttered- | |
| Till I scarcely more than muttered, | |
| On the morrow he will leave me, | |
| Then the bird said, | |
| Startled at the stillness broken | |
| 'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it utters | |
| Caught from some unhappy master | |
| Followed fast and followed faster | |
| Till the dirges of his Hope | |
| Of 'Never- | |
| But the Raven still beguiling | |
| Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, | |
| Then upon the velvet sinking, | |
| Fancy unto fancy, thinking | |
| What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt | |
| Meant in croaking | |
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| This I sat engaged in guessing, | |
| To the fowl whose fiery eyes now | |
| This and more I sat divining, | |
| On the cushion's velvet lining | |
| But whose velvet violet lining | |
| She shall press, ah, | |
| Then methought the air grew denser, | |
| Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls | |
| 'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee- | |
| Respite- respite and nepenthe, | |
| Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe | |
| Quoth the Raven, | |
| 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil!- | |
| Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest | |
| Desolate yet all undaunted, | |
| On this home by horror haunted- | |
| Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- | |
| Quoth the Raven, | |
| 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil- | |
| By that Heaven that bends above us- | |
| Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, | |
| It shall clasp a sainted maiden | |
| Clasp a rare and radiant maiden | |
| Quoth the Raven, | |
| 'Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend,' | |
| 'Get thee back into the tempest | |
| Leave no black plume as a token | |
| Leave my loneliness unbroken!- | |
| Take thy beak from out my heart, | |
| Quoth the Raven, | |
| And the Raven, never flitting, | |
| On the pallid bust of Pallas | |
| And his eyes have all the seeming | |
| And the lamplight o'er him streaming | |
| And my soul from out that shadow | |
| Shall be lifted- | |
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