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Songtekst

once upon a midnight dreary,
while o pondered weak and weary,
over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
while i nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
as of someone gently rapping, tapping at my chamber door.
"This some visitor," i muttered, tapping at my chamber door
only this, and nothing more

ah distinetly i remember
it was in a bleak december,
and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
eagerly i wished the morrow vainly i 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
thrilled me - filled me with
fantastic terrors never felt bevore
presently to still the beating of my heart,
i stood repeating,
tis some visitor entreating 
entrance at my chamber door
some late visitor entreating entrance
at my chamber door
merely this and nothing more

out into the darkness peering
long i stood there wondering, fearing, 
doubting, dreaming dreams no 
mortal ever dared to dream before
but the silence wa 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

back into the chamber turning,
all my soul within me burning,
soon again i heard a tapping somewhat
louder than before.
surely said i, surely that is someone at my window lattice
let me see then what thereat is, 
and this mystary explore
let my heart be still a moment
and this mystery explore
this the wind and nothing more

open wide i flung the shutter
when with many a flirt and flutter,
in there stepped a stately raven
of the saintly days of yore
not the least obeisance made he
not a minute stopped or stayed he
but with mien of lord or lady, perched
above my chamber door
perched upon a bust of eris
just above my chamber door
perched and sat and nothing more

soon 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 on the nightly shore
tell me what thy lordly name is
on this night's plutonian shore
quoth the raven nevermore

now the raven, sitting lonely
on that pacid bust, spoken only
that one word, as if his soul in
that one word he did outpour.
nothing further then he uttered
not a feather then he fluttered
till i scarcely more than muttered,
other friends have gone before
on the morrow he will leave me,
as my hopes have flown before
quoth the raven nevermore

then methought the air grew denser,
perfumed by an unseen censer
swung  by seraphim whose footfalls
tinkled on the tufted floor.
once more on the velvet sinking,
i betook myself to linking
fancy unto fancy, thingking what 
this omnious bird of yore
what this grim ungainly, ghastly,
gaunt and omnious bird of yore
meant in croaking nevermore

prophet said i, thing of evil 
prophet still, if bird or devil
by that heaven stretched above us
by that god we both adore
tell this soul with sorrow laden if,
within the distant aidenn,
it shal clasp a sainted maiden whom
the angles name lenore
clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom 
the angles name lenore
quoth the raven nevermore

prophet i said, thing of evil
prophet still if bird or devil
whether tempter sent or wheter 
tempest tossed thee here ashore
desolate yet all undaunted
on this desert isle enchanted
on this home by horror haunted
tell me truly i implore
is there is there balm in gilead
tell me tell me i implore
quoth the raven nevermore

be that word our sign in parting 
bird or friend i shriekend upstarting
get thee back into the tempest
and the night's plutonian shore
lleave 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 from form from my door
quoth the raven nevermore

now the raven, never flitting,
still is sitting, still is sitting
on the pallid bust of eris just
above my chamber door
and his eyes have all the seeming
of a demon's that is dreaming
and the lamplight o'er him streaming
throws his shadow on the floor
and my soul from out that shadow
that lies floating on the floor

will be lifted,
nevermore

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