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I implore —
Is there — is
there balm in
tell me, I
implore!”
Quoth the
Raven “Nevermore”.
“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 of parting, bird or fiend!”
I shrieked,
upstarting —
“Get thee back
into the tempest and the Night’s
Plutonian
shore!
Leave no back
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!