“The Raven”

[master_q 0]

[ALIGN=center]“The Raven”

 

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 mortals 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 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 blest 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 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 my sad 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 bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

 

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

Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls 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 in 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 lamplight 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!

 

That’s my favorite poem.

 

Another one of my favorites would have to be Ode To Spot

 

 

Master Q

StarTrek_Master_Q@yahoo.com

[Goose 0]

Stardate:213518.6

 

 

 

:shivers:uhhhhhh we had to memorise half of that poem im middle school.

[Yillara Skye 1]

We had to memorize a section of that wonderful poem in my junior year of HS! THANKS FOR SHARING!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS POEM!!! :)

 

I also love many of Poe's other works, particularly: Fall of the House of Usher, Black Cat, The Telltale Heart, and the Cask of Amontillado... :)

[Lollypop 0]

Good stuff ! I remember it well. :)

[master_q 0]

I use to know it might heart.

 

It is a great poem.

 

As Poe was the “Master of Macabre” he did some wonderful poems like this.

 

When you look at this works no wonder he had such a hard life. As far as I know (as I am trying to remember back to when I studied him) his Dad left his Mother and his Mother died when we was about 3. When he was around 16 or 17 he went to the University of VA. He gambled and drank a lot. (I think someone could figure that out with out knowing it - LOL)

 

One thing I do know, even though some of his works did convey a message or something to be learned that he was very against didactic motivation in literature.

 

Well, I think that it’s fine if a lit work has or does not have didactic motivation, but that’s just me.

(So, to a point I would agree with him. However, I think the best stories are ones that do have a lesson to be learned)

 

What does everyone else think about that?

 

 

Master Q

StarTrek_Master_Q@yahooc.com

Edited July 9, 2003 by master_q

[master_q 0]

I knew had a reference on the man and I found it

 

Here’s something that's pretty interesting:

 

Dominic and depraved, an egotistic villain with scarcely any virtue

 

LOL

 

That was said by his best former friend Griswold! (That’s ironic, but considering the man we are speaking of it should not be a surprise)

 

 

Master Q

StarTrek_Master_Q@yahoo.com

[poguemahone 0]

I've had this book called "The Collected Tales & Poems of Egar Allan Poe" since I was a kid because I liked that poem, since then my favouritew poem to read is "The Charge of the Light Brigade", by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. My fav. work by Poe is "Masque of the Red Death". Which, thanks to this thread, i'm going to go read again.

[Xeroc 0]

Very Good Poem.

[master_q 0]

Halloween is coming and so I thought I would bump this back up.

 

 

Master Q

StarTrek_Master_Q@yahoo.com

[Lubak10 0]

I've only read a few of Poe's works but the only one I like is Cask of Amontillado. he was one creepy dude!

[cptwright 1]

i like this poem, i like a few others as well, one is now forgive me i know only a few words of it, and cant remember who it is, "do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light" i love that, and also seeing as were on poetry here, wo did this one, and what is the rest of it, at least i think it was some kind of poetry, "CRYYYYY HAVOC, LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR" thats all i know of it, is it a poem or what, and whats the rest of it?

[Stormtrooper_HK554 0]

I heard in school last year that when the "Raven" was originally published,it was considered so frightening,that it was blamed for several heart attacks!

[LadyNarana 0]

i like this poem, i like a few others as well, one is now forgive me i know only a few words of it, and cant remember who it is, "do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light" i love that, and also seeing as were on poetry here, wo did this one, and what is the rest of it, at least i think it was some kind of poetry, "CRYYYYY HAVOC, LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR" thats all i know of it, is it a poem or what, and whats the rest of it?

"Cry havoc" is Shakespeare. Julius Caesar, to be exact, which is my favorite play.

 

I love Poe. And The Cask of Amontillado is probably my favorite short story of his, too. "For the love of God!" "Yes," said I, "for the love of God." I don't really care for "Mask", but The Black Cat, The Telltale Heart, Ligeia - there are so many...

 

"Bells, bells, bells, bells, bells. Hear the tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells."

[Lubak10 0]

I heard in school last year that when the "Raven" was originally published,it was considered so frightening,that it was blamed for several heart attacks!

:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

[Roetae 0]

ode to spot is the best hands down