The Raven By Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I 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 some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
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 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 before;
So that now, 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;—
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;
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,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals 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.

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;—
‘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—
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,
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 marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest 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 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 flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

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,
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—
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
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.
“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!—
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.”

“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 in 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!
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 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!

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,” begins Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven,” a narrative poem that follows the journey of a man who is visited by a mysterious raven. The man, mourning his lost love Lenore, is interrupted during his melancholic reverie by a tapping at his chamber door. Assuming it to be a visitor, he opens the door to find only darkness.

As he peers into the darkness, he hears the word “Lenore” whispered, and he whispers back, only to be met with an echo. Returning to his chamber, he hears another tapping, this time at his window. Opening the window, he is startled by a raven, who enters and perches upon a bust of Pallas. Despite his attempts to communicate with the raven, asking its name, the only response he receives is “Nevermore.”

The man becomes increasingly fascinated and agitated by the raven’s presence and its repetitive utterance of “Nevermore.” He speculates on the meaning behind the raven’s visit and its ominous message. Eventually, he succumbs to despair, realizing that he will never find solace or answers from the raven. In a fit of desperation, he commands the bird to leave, but the raven simply responds with “Nevermore.”

The poem ends with the man resigned to his fate, with the raven still perched upon the bust, casting a shadow over him as he sinks into darkness, never to find relief from his grief.

Analyzing The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, we see it is rich in themes of grief, loss, and the human psyche. The protagonist’s grief over the loss of Lenore consumes him, leading him to search for solace in the supernatural. The raven serves as a symbol of death and despair, haunting the man’s thoughts and denying him any hope of relief. The repetition of “Nevermore” emphasizes the inevitability of death and the futility of the man’s search for meaning in his suffering. Additionally, the poem explores the themes of madness and the power of the human mind to create its own torment.

The poem employs various literary devices to convey its themes, including alliteration, repetition, and symbolism. The rhythmic flow of the poem contributes to its eerie atmosphere, drawing readers into the protagonist’s descent into madness. Poe’s use of vivid imagery, such as the “silken sad uncertain rustling” of the curtains and the “perfumed air” adds to the sense of foreboding and unease.

Edgar Allan Poe’s poem is rich in themes that resonate deeply with readers:

1. Grief and Loss: The protagonist’s overwhelming grief over the loss of Lenore consumes him, driving him to despair and longing.
2. Mortality and Death: The raven symbolizes death and serves as a reminder of mortality, echoing the inevitability of loss and the passage of time.
3. Despair and Hopelessness: The repetition of “Nevermore” emphasizes the protagonist’s sense of hopelessness and the futility of finding solace or meaning in his suffering.
4. Madness and Psychological Torment: The protagonist’s descent into madness is a central theme, highlighting the power of the human mind to create its own torment.
5. Supernatural and the Unknown: The presence of the raven introduces an element of the supernatural, adding to the mysterious and eerie atmosphere of the poem.
6. Isolation and Loneliness: The protagonist’s isolation in his chamber reflects feelings of loneliness and alienation, further deepening his despair.
7. The Power of Language: Poe’s use of literary devices like alliteration, repetition, and symbolism underscores the power of language to evoke emotion and create atmosphere, intensifying the poem’s impact.

Overall, “The Raven” is a haunting exploration of human despair and the futile search for meaning in the face of loss and mortality. Through its evocative language and powerful imagery, the poem leaves a lasting impression on readers, inviting them to contemplate the darker aspects of the human experience.