As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain This it is and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before ; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore !" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore! Merely this and nothing more. وو Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before. 66 Surely," said I," surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore- Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore 'Tis the wind and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; Perched, and sat, and nothing more, Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore- Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being |