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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. While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.
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.”
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.”
“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 my loneliness unbroken!” 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 lamplight 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!
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