Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

With such name as “Nevermore.”

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.