| And the Raven never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
|
| And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming
|
| And my soul from out the shadow that lies floating on the floor
|
| Shall be lifted-
|
| Distinctly I remember
|
| It was in a bleak December
|
| I was nodding, nearly napping
|
| When there was a rapping at my chamber door
|
| Deep into the darkness peering
|
| I stood there, door opened, fearing
|
| Hesitating then no longer
|
| «Sir» said I «or Madame, truly I implore»
|
| Darkness there and nothing more
|
| Just the wind cried «Lenore»
|
| Then there was a stately raven
|
| Stepping in nohow craven
|
| Perched on a bust sat the raven of yore
|
| Croaking the word he said: «Nevermore»
|
| Asked for his name on the Plutonian shore
|
| Croaking again he quoth: «Nevermore»
|
| And the bird sitting lonely
|
| On the placid bust spoke only
|
| That one word and nothing more
|
| While dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor
|
| Darkness there and nothing more
|
| Just the wind cried «Lenore»
|
| Take the beak from out my heart
|
| Tear the shades of grief apart
|
| Perched on a bust sat the raven of yore
|
| Croaking the word when he said: «Nevermore»
|
| Asked for his name on the Plutonian shore
|
| Croaking again he quoth: «Nevermore»
|
| Darkness there and nothing more
|
| While my heart sighed «Lenore»
|
| Eagerly I wished the morrow
|
| To release me from my sorrow
|
| Perched on a bust sat the raven of yore
|
| Croaking the word he said: «Nevermore»
|
| Asked for his name on the Plutonian shore
|
| Croaking again he quoth: «Nevermore»
|
| The raven the rave the raven of yore
|
| Croaking the word he said: «Nevermore»
|
| Plutonian Plutonian Plutonian shore
|
| Croaking again he said: «Nevermore» |