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

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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 blest with seeing
Bird above his chamber door-

Bird or beast upon the sculptured
Bust above his chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

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.
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 lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining

With the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore !

Then methought the air grew denser,
Perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls

Tinkled on the tufted floor.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent theeBy these angels he hath sent thee

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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-