The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1902-08-05

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wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wish'd the morrow; vainly 1
had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow,
sorrow for the lost Lenore,-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom
the angels name Lenore,-
Nameless here for evermOre.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling
of each purple curtain
ThriIPd me, flPd me with fantastic
terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my
heart, I stood repeating,
~'Tis some visitor, ~entreating n
trance at my chamber-door;
Some late visitor, e~ntreating entrance
at my chamber-door:
This it is, and nothing more"
Presently my soul grew stronger; hes
itating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, cor madam, truly your
forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, | vas mapping, and so
gently you came rapping,
And so family you came tapping, tap
ping at my CudIuD0F-QOOTy
That I scarce was sure / heard you
Here I open'd wide the door:
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long
| stood there, wondering, fearing,
Doubling, dreaming dreams no mortal
ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the
darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was
the Whispered word "Lenore!"
This I Whispered. and an echo muir
mur'd back the word "Lenore!"
Merely this, and nothing more.
Then into the chamber turning, all my
soul within me burning
Soon I heard again a tapping, some
what louder than before.
~Surely," said I, surely that is some
thing 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:
IT'S the wind, and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when,
with many a firt and futter,
In there stepp'd a stately raven of the
sanity days of yore:
No the least Obeisance made he, not
an instant stopp'd or staid he,
But, with mien of lord or lady, perch'd
above my chamber door,
Perch'd upon a bust of Pallas just
above my chamber-door,-
Perch'd, and sat, and nothing more.
Then, this ebOn bird beguiling my sad
fancy into smiling
By the grave and stern decorum of
the c~ountenance it wore,
Though thy crest be shOrn and sha-
en-, thou" I said, cart sure no
craven,
CHASTITY, grim. and ancient raven,
wandering from the nightly shore:
Tell me what thy Iordly name is on
the nights Plutonian shore"
QuOth the raven, "Nevermore."
Much I marvelPd this ungainly fowl
to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, lit
tie relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no
living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird
above his chamber-dOOr,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust
above his chamber-doOr,
With such name as "NevermOre."
But the raven, sitting lonely on the
placid bust, spoke only
That n word, as if his soul in that
one word he did outpOur.
Nothing farther then he utter'd, not
a feather then he futter'd,
Till l scarcely more than mutter'd,
"Other friends have flown before:
On the morrow he will leave me, as my
hopes have flown before"
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
Startled at the stiffness broken by re-
ply so aptly spoken,
Doubtless" said I, what it utters is
its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master,
whom unmerciful disaster
FOLLOWED fast and FOLLOWED faster. till
his song one burden BORE
Till the dirges of his hope the melan-
choly burden bore
Of NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.. "
But, the raven still beguiling all my
sad soul into smiling.
Straight l wheeled a cushion'd seat in
front of bird. and bust, and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I be-
took myself ID linking
prhis Is No. 6, Of our series Of the worId,s