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Tell this soul with sorrow laden
Whom the angels name Lenore-
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore.”
“ Be that word our sign in parting,
Bird or fiend,” I shrieked, upstartingGet 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."
And the Raven, never flitting,
On the pallid bust of Pallas
Just above my chamber door :
Throws his shadow on the floor;
Shall be lifted-nevermore!
Ah, broken is the golden bowl !
The spirit flown forever!
Floats on the Stygian river ;
Weep now or never more !
Low lies thy love, Lenore !
The funeral song be sung !
That ever died so young-
In that she died so young.
“ Wretches !
ye loved her for her wealth And hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health,
Ye blessed her—that she died !
The requiem how be sung
By yours, the slanderous tongue
That died, and died so young ?”
Peccavimus; but rave not thus !
And let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly
The dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenore hath "
before,” With Hope that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child
That should have been thy bride-
The life upon her yellow hair,
But not within her eyes-
“ Avaunt ! to-night my heart is light.
No dirge will I upraise,
With a Pæan of old days!
Amid its hallowed mirth,
Up from the damned Earth.
The indignant ghost is riven-
within the HeavenFrom grief and groan to a golden throne)
Beside the King of Heaven."