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!

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“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.”

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    “Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
    And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.”

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    “Eagerly I wished the morrow;—­vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow—­sorrow for the lost Lenore.”

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“Sorrow for the lost Lenore.”

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“For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—­
Nameless here for evermore.”

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“’T is some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—­
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door.”

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“Here I opened wide the door;—­
Darkness there, and nothing more.”

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“Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

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    “‘Surely,’ said I, ’surely that is something at my window lattice;
    Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.’”

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    “Open here I flung the shutter.”

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...  “A stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he.”

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“Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—­
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.”

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“Wandering from the Nightly shore.”

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    “Till I scarcely more than muttered, ’Other friends have flown before—­
    On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’”

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“Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy.”

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“But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!”

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“‘Wretch,’ I cried, ’thy God hath lent thee—­by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—­respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!’”

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    “On this home by Horror haunted.”

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    ...  “Tell me truly, I implore—­
    Is there—­is there balm in Gilead?—­tell me—­tell me, I implore!”