The Raven
Edgar Allan PoeOnce upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 5
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, rapping at my chamber door—
“ ’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— 10
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease° of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— 15
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 before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating 20
“ ’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; 25
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;———
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, 30
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was 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. 35
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 something 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;— 40
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here 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— 45
Perched upon a bust of Pallas° just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then 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, 50
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”°
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; 55
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 60
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.” 65
Startled at the stillness broken by reply 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 songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 70
Of ‘Never—nevermore.’ ”
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore— 75
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 80
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim° whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 85
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe° from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!— 90
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land 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.” 95
“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.” 100
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 black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door! 105
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, 110
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
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Making Meanings
The Raven1. Do you think there really was a raven in the speaker’s chambers? Why or why not? If not, what is your explanation for what happened on that “midnight dreary” in the speaker’s room?
2. How would you describe the atmosphere created by the setting? Which images in the beginning of the poem create this atmosphere?
3. In line 101, what do you think the speaker might mean when he begs the bird, “Take thy beak from out my heart”?
4. The speaker’s tone changes as the Raven gradually turns from a comic figure into a demonic figure. Trace these changes in tone. Is there evidence in the last stanza that the speaker goes mad? Explain.
5. How did the poem’s sound effects affect your response to the poem? Go back to the text and the notes you made after reading the poem aloud. Then, cite passages that you’d especially like to read aloud.
6. By the end of the poem, what do you think it means that the Raven “still is sitting” in the speaker’s chamber?
7. Many readers take the Raven as a symbol—it functions as a real raven in the poem, but it also has a broader, figurative meaning. What, in your opinion, does the Raven symbolize? Why do you suppose Poe chose a raven to carry this meaning rather than a chicken, hawk, sparrow, or other bird? (For more on symbols, see Elements of Literature following “The Fall of the House of Usher.” For Poe’s thoughts on the Raven, see Primary Sources.)
8. What do you make of the poem’s speaker? Freewrite some thoughts that you imagine might be running through his head during or after the events of the poem. Then get together with a small group of other students, and take turns being the speaker, who has been put on the “hot seat” to answer questions.
9. Compare “The Raven” with any other stories you know of in which a person is deeply moved by the loss of someone he or she loves. One such story is “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall” (Collection 14) by Katherine Anne Porter.
10. Suppose someone said to you that “The Raven” is not worth reading because it’s unbelievable. How would you answer this challenge?