Edgar
“Of course,” I said, “What it mutters is its bread and butter”
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Give me Relief- Relief and alcohol from my memories of Lenore
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
He said nothing more and nothing less, his feathers never fell
Nothing further he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered
But the Raven still entrancing my sad face into smiling
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
On the couch’s soft lining, and the lamp light shed over
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
Surprised at broken silence of the confidently spoken comment
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
Wretch, you filthy animal, your God has sent these angels of heaven to you
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
That one word he poured his whole heart into
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Why, oh Why is this ancient bird here
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
While I was thinking my head fell back
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
Trapped from a messy master who had an awful disaster
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Swung by angels of heaven whose soft tip-toes echoed on the spongy floor
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
Until I whispered something, “Other friends have left me before
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before"
Then, upon the cushion sinking, I began thinking
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
I sat thinking, guessing, and not speaking
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
Tracked speedily and Tracked faster until his sad songs carried his troubles
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
Then, I thought the air got heavier, with the smoke of an unknown container
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
But the Raven, sat lonely on that still statue, only said
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
With good posture I pushed the small couch in front of the raven, the statue, and the door
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
To the bird whose red eyes now penetrate my heart’s core
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
Until the slow songs of his sadness took over him
Of never- nevermore
Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore
of Never-Nevermore
Chug, Oh Chug, this kind of alcohol, so I can forget Lenore
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore”
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Tomorow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before
Then the Raven said, Nevermore
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before
Then the bird said "nevermore"
Why is this traumatizing, awful, sad, and ancient bird her to torment me
As the Raven says, Nevermore
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
But whose soft purple lining with the lamp light shedding over, Lenore will never sit on again
Nevermore
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!