Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something 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 staid 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 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
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.
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