Universal Dependencies - English - GENTLE

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THE RAVEN.

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ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —

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While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

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''Tis some visiter,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door —

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Only this and nothing more.'

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Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

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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 name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.

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And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

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So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

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''Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door —

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Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;

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This it is and nothing more.'

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Presently my soul grew stronger;

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hesitating then no longer, 'Sir,' said I, 'or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

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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' —

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here I opened wide the door; — —

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Darkness there and nothing more.

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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

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But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 'Lenore?'

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This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 'Lenore!' —

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Merely this and nothing more.

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Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before.

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'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice;

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Let me see, then, what thereat is and this mystery explore —

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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; —

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'Tis the wind and nothing more.'

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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.

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Not the least obeisance made he;

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not a minute stopped or stayed he;

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But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door — Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —

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Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

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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 —

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Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

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Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

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Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;

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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.'

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But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

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Nothing farther then he uttered;

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not a feather then he fluttered —

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Till I scarcely more than muttered

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'Other friends have flown before —

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On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.'

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Then the bird said 'Nevermore.'

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Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 'Doubtless,' said I, 'what it utters is its only stock and store

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Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —

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Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.''

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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;

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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.'

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This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

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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,

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But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp - light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore!

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Then, me thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot - falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

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'Wretch,' I cried, 'thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

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Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!'

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Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil!

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— prophet still, if bird or devil! —

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Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here a shore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —

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Is there — is there balm in Gilead?

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— tell me — tell me, I implore!'

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Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil —

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prophet still, if bird or devil!

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By that Heaven that bends above us —

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by that God we both adore —

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Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —

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Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.'

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Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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'Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked, upstarting —

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'Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!

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Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

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Leave my loneliness unbroken!

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— quit the bust above my door!

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Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'

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Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore.'

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And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

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And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming

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And the lamp - light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

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And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!