Jump to content

We've recently updated our software. Please report any issues you may experience.

cravnravn

Calm Before The Storm

Recommended Posts

 

 

 

1transp.gif

Once upon a 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 some one gently

rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered,

`tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

 

Ah,

distinctly I remember it was in 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 named Lenore

-

Nameless here for evermore.

 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of

each purple curtain

Thrilled me - filled 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,'

 

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 came rapping,

And so faintly you

came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you'

- here I opened wide the door; -

Darkness there, and nothing

more.

 

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 darkness gave no token,

And

the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'

This I

whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'

Merely this and

nothing more.

 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within 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!'

 

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.

 

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 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 blessed with seeing bird above his

chamber door -

Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber

door,

With such name as `Nevermore.'

 

But the raven, sitting lonely on

the 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 lamp-light gloated o'er,

But whose velvet

violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah,

nevermore!

 

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen

censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted

floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has

sent thee

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 -

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the

distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore

-

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth

the raven, `Nevermore.'

 

`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.'

 

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 lamp-light 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!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.



×
×
  • Create New...