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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.”

“ 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,
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!

LENOR E.

Ah, broken is the golden bowl !

The spirit flown forever!
Let the bell toll !-a saintly soul

Floats on the Stygian river ;
And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear ?

Weep now or never more !
See! on yon drear and rigid bier

Low lies thy love, Lenore !
Come ! let the burial rite be read

The funeral song be sung !
An anthem for the queenliest dead

That ever died so young-
A dirge for her the doubly dead

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 !
How shall the ritual, then, be read?

The requiem how be sung
By you—by yours, the evil eye, -

By yours, the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence

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 "

“gone

before,” With Hope that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child

That should have been thy bride-
For her, the fair and debonair,
That now so lowly lies,

The life upon her yellow hair,

But not within her eyes-
The life still there upon her hair-
The death

upon
her

eyes.

Avaunt ! to-night my heart is light.

No dirge will I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight

With a Pæan of old days!
Let no bell toll !-lest her sweet soul,

Amid its hallowed mirth,
Should catch the note, as it doth float

Up from the damned Earth.
To friends above, from fiends below,

The indignant ghost is riven-
From Hell unto a high estate
Far
up

within the HeavenFrom grief and groan to a golden throne)

Beside the King of Heaven."

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