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.
THE RAVEN – Edgar Allan Poe
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
Thoug thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, 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!
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 beingEver yet was blêssed with seeing bird above his chamber door –Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,With such name as “Nevermore”.