The Shasta courier., 1860-04-07
THE RAVEN.
BY EDGAR A. POE.

came tapping
As if some one gently rapping1 rapping at my
chamber door;
"'Tis some vistor," muttered, "tapping at my
chamber door
Only this and nothing more"
All, distinctly remember it was in the bleak
December
And each separate dying ember wrought its
ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly | wished the morrow,-yainy l had
sought TO borrow
From my books surcease Of sorrow-sorrow for
the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whoa the an
gels name Lenore-
Nameess here for evermore.
And the siken, sad, uncertain rustling of each
purple curtain
never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating my of heart, l
stood repeating
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my
chamber door
Some late visitor sntreating entrance at my
chamber door
This it is, and nothing MORE"
Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating
"Sir," said |, +" or Madam, truly your forgive
ness implore;
But the fact is, was mapping, and so gently
you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at
my chamber door,
That scarce was sure I heard you,"-here l
opened wide the door
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long l stood
there wondering, fearing,
Doubling, dreaming dreams no mortal ever
dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the stiffness
gave no token,
And the only word there spoken, was the whis-
pered word, " Leonorep
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into my chamber turning, all my soul
within me burning,
Soon again heard tapping somewhat louder
than before,
Surely" said !, "surely that is something at
my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mys-
terry explore
Let my heart be still moment, and this MYSTERY
explore
'Tis the wind, and nothing more.
Open here flung the shutter, when, with many
a airt and futter,
In there stepped stately Raven of the sanity
days of yore
Not the least obesance made he not a minute
stopped or stayed he;
Bnt with mien of lord or lady, perched above
my chamber door
Perched upon bust of Pallas, just above my
chamber door
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebon bird beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the counten-
ance it wore,
" Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, >
| said, :" art sure no raven
Ghastly, grim and ancient Raven, wondering
from the Nightly shore
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Nights
Plutonian shore !"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Much marvelled .this ungainly fowl to hear
discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning-little rele-
vancy bore:
For we cannot help agreeing that no living
human beingy
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his
chamber door
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust aboye
With such name as "Nevermore"
But the Raven sitting lonely on the placid bust,
spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word
he did outpour,
Nothing farther then he uttered-not feather
then he luttered-
Till / scarcely more than muttered, 40 the
friends have flown before
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes
have flown before"
Then the bird said, " "Nevemore."
Startled at the stiffness broken by reply SO aptly
spoken,
Doubtless" said l, " what it utters is its only
stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom un-
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs
one burden bore
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy bur-
den bore
Of 'Never-nevermore'
Bat the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling,
Straight wheeled cushioned seat in front ol
bird and bust and door,
Then, upon the velvet sinking, betook myself
to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous
bird of yore-
What his grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and
ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking Neyermore.'
This sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable
expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eye now burned in
my bosom's core;
This and more sat divining, with my heart at
ease reclining
On the cushions velvet lining that the lamp
light gloated DER;
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp
light gioating DER,
She shall press ah, nevermorel
Then methought, the air grew denser, perfumed
from an unseen censor,
Swung by seraphm whose foot falls fingered on
| the tufted floor.
Wretch" cried, Il thy God hath lent thee
by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe from thy mem.
ories of Leonore;
| Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forge
this lost Leonorer'
Quoth the Raven, Nevermore."
' Prophet" said l. /" thing of evil ! prophet still
if bird or devil
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tos
i thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert Ian.
enchanted
On this home by horror haunted-tell me truly
! implore-