Once upon a midnight dreary, while ah ponnered, weak an' wary,
On over menny a quaint an' curious voloom of fo'gotten lo'e-
While ah nodded, nearly nappin', suddenly thar came a tappin',
As of some one juntly rappin', rappin' at mah chamber dore.
"'T is some visito'," ah muttered, "tappin' at mah chamber dore-
Only this hyar an' nothin' mo'e."
Ah, distinckly ah remember it was in th' bleak December;
An' etch separeete dyin' ember wrought its ghost upon th' flore.
Eagerly ah wished th' mo'row;-vainly ah had sought t'bo'row
Fum mah books surcease of so'row-so'row fo' th' lost Leno'e-
Fo' th' rare an' radiant maiden whom th' angels named Leno'e-
Nameless hyar fo' evahmo'e.
An' th' silken, sad, unsartin restlin' of etch purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me wif fantastic terro's nevah felt befo'e;
So thet now, t'still th' beatin' of mah heart, ah stood repeatin'
"'T is some visito' intreatin' intrance at mah chamber dore-
Some late visito' intreatin' intrance at mah chamber dore;-
This hyar it is an' nothin' mo'e."
Presently mah soul grew stronger; hesitatin' then no longer,
"Suh," said I, "o' Madam, truly yer fo'giveness ah implo'e;
But th' fack is ah was nappin', an' so juntly yo' came rappin',
An' so faintly yo' came tappin', tappin' at mah chamber dore,
Thet ah scarce was sho'nuff ah heard yo'"-har ah opened wide th' dore;-
Darkness thar an' nothin' mo'e.
Deep into th' darkness peerin', long ah stood thar wonnerin', fearin',
Doubtin', dreamin' dreams no mo'tal evah dastd t'dream befo'e;
But th' silence was unbusted, an' th' stillness gave no token,
An' th' only wo'd thar spoken was th' whispered wo'd, "Leno'e!"
This hyar ah whispered, an' an echo murmured back th' wo'd "Leno'e!"
Merely this hyar an' nothin' mo'e.
Back into th' chamber turnin', all mah soul wifin me burnin',
Soon agin ah heard a tappin' somewhut louder than befo'e.
"Sho'ly," said I, "surely thet is sumpin at mah window lattice;
Let me see, then, whut tharat is, an' this hyar mahstery splore-
Let mah heart be still a moment an' this hyar mahstery splore;-
'T is th' wind an' nothin' mo'e!"
Open hyar ah flung th' shetter, when wif menny a flirt an' flutter
In thar stepped a stately Raven of th' saintly days of yo'e.
Not th' least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped o' stayed he;
But, wif mien of lo'd o' lady, perched above mah chamber dore-
Perched upon a best of Pallas jest above mah chamber dore-
Perched, an' sat, an' nothin' mo'e.
Then this hyar ebony bird beguilin' mah sad fancy into smilin',
By th' grave an' stern deco'um of th' countenance it wo'e,
"Though thy cress be sho'n an' shaven, thou," ah said, "art sho'nuff no craven,
Ghastly grim an' ancient Raven wan'erin' fum th' Nightly sho'e-
Tell me whut thy lo'dly name is on th' Night's Plutonian sho'e!"
Quoth th' Raven, "Nevahmo'e."
Much ah marvelled this hyar ungainly fowl t'hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer li'l meanin'-li'l relevancy bo'e;
Fo' we kinnot he'p agreein' thet no livin' hoomin bein'
Evah yet was blessed wif seein' bird above his chamber dore-
Bird o' beast upon th' scu'ptured best above his chamber dore,
Wif sech name as "Nevahmo'e."
But th' Raven, sittin' lonely on th' placid best, spoke only
Thet wo'd, as eff'n his soul in thet one wo'd he did outpour.
Nothin' farther then he uttered-not a feather then he fluttered-
Till ah scarcely mo'e than muttered "Other friends haf flown befo'e-
On th' mo'row he will leave me, as mah hopes haf flown befo'e."
Then th' bird said "Nevahmo'e."
Startled at th' stillness busted by reply so apply spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "whut it utters is its only stock an' sto'e
Caught fum some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Follered fast an' follered faster till his songs one burden bo'e-
Till th' dirges of his Hope thet melancholy burden bo'e
But th' Raven still beguilin' all mah fancy into smilin',
Straight ah wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, an' best an' dore;
Then, upon th' velvet sinkin', ah betook mahse'f t'linkin'
Fancy unto fancy, reckonin' whut this hyar ominous bird of yo'e-
Whut in tarnation this hyar grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, an' ominous bird of yo'e
Meant in croakin' "Nevahmo'e."
This hyar ah sat ingaged in guessin', but no syllable expressin'
To th' fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into mah bosom's co'e;
This hyar an' mo'e ah sat divinin', wif mah haid at ease reclinin'
On th' cushion's velvet linin' thet th' lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet linin' wif th' lamp-light gloatin' o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevahmo'e!
Then, methunk, th' air grew denser, perfoomd fum an unsee censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on th' tuf'ed flore.
"Wretch," ah cried, "thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite an' nepenth' fum thy memo'ies of Leno'e;
Quaff, oh quaff this hyar kind nepenth' an' fo'git this hyar lost Leno'e!"
Quoth th' Raven "Nevahmo'e."
"Prophet! Fry mah hide!" said I, "thin' of evil! Fry mah hide!-prophet still, eff'n bird o' devil! Fry mah hide!
By thet Hevvin thet bends above us-by thet God we both ado'e-
Tell this hyar soul wif so'row laden eff'n, wifin th' distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom th' angels name Leno'e-
Clasp a rare an' radiant maiden whom th' angels name Leno'e."
Quoth th' Raven "Nevahmo'e."
"Be thet wo'd our sign of partin', bird o' fiend! Fry mah hide!" ah shrieked, upstartin'-
"Git thee back into th' tempess an' th' Night's Plutonian sho'e!
Leave no black ploom as a token of thet lie thy soul hath spoken! Fry mah hide!
Leave mah loneliness unbusted! Fry mah hide!-quit th' best above mah dore! Fry mah hide!
Take thy beak fum out mah heart, an' take thy fo'm fum off mah dore! Fry mah hide!"
Quoth th' Raven "Nevahmo'e."
An' th' Raven, nevah flittin', still is sittin', still is sittin'
On th' pallid best of Pallas jest above mah chamber dore;
An' his eyes haf all th' seemin' of a demon's thet is dreamin',
An' th' lamp-light o'er him streamin' throws his shadow on th' flore;
An' mah soul fum out thet shadow thet lies floatin' on th' flore
Shall be lif'ed-nevahmo'e!
~Edgar A. Poe