Edgar Allen Poe
October is Edgar Allen Poe month in our school library!
January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849
Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre.
THE RAVEN
Once 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.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door
-
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 angels 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 still the 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 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 mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness 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 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 yore.
Not
the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with
mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of
Pallas just above my chamber door -
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 blessed with seeing bird above his
chamber door -
Bird or beast above 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 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,
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 all my sad soul 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 angels he has
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! -
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 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 named Lenore
-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named 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!
This famous poem was the inspiration for the movie The Crow and its sequels. Check out the trailers below!
Also the movie of its name - THE RAVEN - 2012 (played in Portugal in May)
John Cusack plays Edgar Allen Poe in this movie.
