1.
Once upon the 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 someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more, nothing more, nothing more.

2.
Ah, distinctly I remember it was 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 name Lenore­­
Nameless here for evermore, evermore, evermore.

3.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me­­ fill 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, nothing more, nothing more.’

4.
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 cam rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’­­ here I opened wide the door;­­
Darkness there and nothing mre, nothing more, nothing more.

5.
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 stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the work, ‘Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more, nothing more, nothing more.

6.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul withing 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! nothing more! nothing more!’

7.
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, nothing more, nothing more.

8.
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 why thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore.’

13.
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 lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvetviolet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore! nevermore! nevermore!

===[SECTION TWO]===

16.
‘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 name Lenore­­
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore.’

17.
‘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, nevermore, nevermore.’

18.
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! nevermore! nevermore!

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