And left it for a prison. 'Twas in June, The last on whom it closed and her sweet voice, And he grew desperate; he forced the bars, And he stood on the street free and alone. He only felt one want-to see the corse THE RAVEN. MISS LANDON. ONCE upon a midnight dreary, while I ponder'd 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 66 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 black 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 name Lenore Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain › Thrill'd me -fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping-tapping at m n chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you: wide the door : here I open Darkness there, and nothing mor Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood the wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dar to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness ga no token, And the only word there spoken was the whisper word "Lenore ? " This I whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back + word "Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing mo Back into the chamber turning, all my soul with me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder th ⚫ before. Surely," said I, "surely that is something at window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this myste explore- Let my heart be still a moment, and this myste 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 mein 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 the crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, it 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 marvell'd 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 |