| Once upon a midnight dreary,
|
| while I pondered weak and weary,
|
| on volumes of forgotten lore.
|
| While I nodded, nearly napping,
|
| suddenly there came a tapping,
|
| someone rapping at my chamber door.
|
| This some visitor, I muttered, tapping at my chamber door,
|
| only this and nothing more.
|
| Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many flutter,
|
| a stately Raven of yore.
|
| Not the least obeisance made he; |
| not a minute stopped or stayed he;
|
| perched above my chamber door.
|
| Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend! |
| I shrieked, upstarting,
|
| Get back to the Plutonian Shore.
|
| Leave no black plume as a token, as that lie thy soul hath spoken!
|
| 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.
|
| Nevermore.
|
| Nevermore.
|
| And Raven never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on the bust of
|
| Pallas above my door.
|
| And his eyes have all the seeming
|
| of a demon that is dreaming and the lamplight oer him streaming on the floor.
|
| And my soul from out the shadow
|
| that lies floating on the floor,
|
| shall be lifted nevermore.
|
| Nevermore.
|
| Nevermore.
|
| Nevermore. |