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Once upon a midnight dreary |
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As I pondered, weak and weary |
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Over many a quaint and curious |
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Volume of forgotten lore |
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While I nodded, nearly napping |
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Suddenly there came a tapping |
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As of someone gently rapping |
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Rapping at my chamber door |
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"'Tis some visitor," I muttered |
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"tapping at my chamber door |
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Only this and nothing more." |
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Muttering I got up weakly |
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Always I've had trouble sleeping |
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Stumbling upright my mind racing |
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Furtive thoughts flowing once more |
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I, there hoping for some sunrise |
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Happiness would be a surprise |
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Loneliness no longer a prize |
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Rapping at my chamber door |
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Seeking out the clever bore |
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Lost in dreams forever more |
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Only this and nothing more |
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Hovering my pulse was racing |
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Stale tobacco my lips tasting |
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Scotch sitting upon my basin |
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Remnants of the night before |
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Came again |
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Infernal tapping on the door |
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In my mind jabbing |
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Is it in or outside rapping |
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Calling out to me once more |
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The fit and fury of Lenore |
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Nameless here forever more |
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And the silken sad uncertain |
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Rustling of the purple curtain |
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Thrilled me, filled me |
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With fantastic terrors never felt before |
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So that now, oh wind, stood breathing |
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Hoping yet to calm my breathing |
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"'Tis some visitor entreating |
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Entrance at my chamber door |
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Some lost visitor entreating |
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Entrance at my chamber door |
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This it is, and nothing more." |
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Deep into the darkness peering |
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Long I stood there |
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Wondering fearing |
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Doubting dreaming fantasies |
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No mortal dared to dream before |
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But the silence was unbroken |
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And the stillness gave no token |
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And the only word there spoken |
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Was the whispered name, "Lenore." |
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This I thought |
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And out loud whispered from my lips |
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The foul name festered |
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Echoing itself |
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Merely this, and nothing more |
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Back into my chamber turning |
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Every nerve within me burning |
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When once again I heard a tapping |
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Somewhat louder than before |
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"surely," said I |
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Surely that is something at my iron staircase |
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Open the door to see what threat is |
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Open the window, free the shutters |
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Let us this mystery explore |
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Oh, bursting heart be still this once |
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And let this mystery explore |
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It is the wind and nothing more |
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Just one epithet I muttered as inside |
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I gagged and shuddered |
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When with manly flirt and flutter |
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In there flew a stately raven |
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Sleek and ravenous as any foe |
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Not the least obeisance made he |
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Not a minutes gesture towards me |
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Of recognition or politeness |
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But perched above my chamber door |
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This fowl and salivating visage |
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Insinuating with its knowledge |
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Perched above my chamber door |
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Silent sat and staring |
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Nothing more |
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Askance, askew |
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The self's sad fancy smiles at you I swear |
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At this savage viscous countenance it wears |
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Though you show here shorn and shaven |
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And I admit myself forlorn and craven |
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Ghastly grim and ancient raven |
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Wandering from the opiate shores |
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Tell me what thy lordly name is |
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That you are not nightmare sewage |
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Some dire powder drink or inhalation |
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Framed from flames of downtown lore |
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Quotes the raven, "nevermore." |
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And the raven sitting lonely |
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Staring sickly at my male sex only |
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That one word |
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As if his soul in that one word |
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He did outpour, "pathetic." |
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Nothing farther than he uttered |
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Not a feather then he fluttered |
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Till finally was I that muttered as I stared |
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Dully at the floor |
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"other friends have flown and left me |
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Flown as each and every hope has flown before |
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As you no doubt will fore the morrow." |
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But the bird said, "never, more." |
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Then I felt the air grow denser |
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Perfumed from some unseen incense |
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As though accepting angelic intrusion |
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When in fact I felt collusion |
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Before the guise of false memories respite |
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Respite through the haze of cocaine's glory |
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I smoke and smoke the blue vial's glory |
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To forget |
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At once |
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The base Lenore |
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Quoth the raven, "nevermore." |
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"Prophet," said I, "thing of evil |
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Prophet still, if bird or devil |
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By that heaven that bend above us |
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By that God we both ignore |
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Tell this soul with sorrow laden |
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Willful and destructive intent |
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How had lapsed a pure heart lady |
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To the greediest of needs |
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Sweaty arrogant dickless liar |
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Who ascribed to nothing higher |
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Than a jab from prick to needle |
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Straight to betrayal and disgrace |
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The conscience showing not a trace." |
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Quoth the raven, "nevermore." |
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"Be that word our sign of parting |
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Bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting |
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"get thee back into the tempest |
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Into the smoke filled bottle's shore |
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Leave no black plume as a token |
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Of the slime thy soul hath spoken |
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Leave my loneliness unbroken |
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Quit as those have quit before |
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Take the talon from my heart |
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And see that I can care no more |
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Whatever mattered came before |
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I vanish with the dead Lenore." |
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Quoth the raven, "nevermore." |
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But the raven, never flitting |
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Still is sitting silent sitting |
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Above a painting silent painting |
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Of the forever silenced whore |
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And his eyes have all the seeming |
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Of a demon's that is dreaming |
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And the lamplight over him |
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Streaming throws his shadow to the floor |
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I love she who hates me more |
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I love she who hates me more |
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And my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow |
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Nevermore |
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|