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
name
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
stillness
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
nights
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
upon
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
farther
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
fancy
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
bosoms
core
this
and
more
i
sat
divining
with
my
head
at
ease
reclining
on
the
cushions
velvet
lining
that
the
lamp
light
gloated
oer
but
whose
velvet
violet
lining
with
the
lamp
light
gloating
oer
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
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
name
lenore
clasp
a
rare
and
radiant
maiden
whom
the
angels
name
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
nights
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
demons
that
is
dreaming
and
the
lamp
light
oer
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