- "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil-- prophet still, if bird or devil!
- By that Heaven that bends above us-- by that God we both adore--
- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
- It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
- "Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting--
- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
- Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
- Leave my loneliness unbroken!-- 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."
- 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 lamp-light 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!
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)












