Ever yet was bless'd with seeing bird above his chamber door Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered; not a feather then he flutter'd, Till I scarcely more than mutter'd, "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 hath 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 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 implore!" -tell me, I Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 66 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 name Lenore Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name "Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! I shriek'd, 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! EDGAR ALLAN POE. LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, Has seen "Lodgings to Let," stare him full in the face. Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known, Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.— WILL WADDLE, whose temper was studious and lonely He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated; Next night 'twas the same!—and the next! and the next! He perspired like an ox; he was nervous, and vexed; Week passed after week, till by weekly succession, His weakly condition was passed all expression. In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him: For his skin "like a lady's loose gown," hung about him. |