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- The Raven
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- EdgarAllanPoe
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- Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered, weak and weary,
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- Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
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- While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
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- As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
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- "'Tis some visitor I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
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- Only this, and nothing more."
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- Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
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- And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
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- Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
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- From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
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- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
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- Nameless here for evermore.
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- And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
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- thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
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- So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
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- "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
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- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
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- This it is, and nothing more."
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- Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
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- "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
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- But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
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- And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
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- That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened wide the door; -
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- Darkness there, and nothing more.
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- Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood therewondering, fearing,
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- Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
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- But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
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- And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!"
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- This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" -
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- Merely this, and nothing more.
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- Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
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- Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
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- "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
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- Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
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- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
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- 'Tis the wind and nothing more."
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- Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
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- In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
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- Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
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- But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
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- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
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- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
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- Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
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- By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
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- "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure on craven,
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- Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
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- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
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- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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- Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
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- Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
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- For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
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- Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door -
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- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
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- With such name as "Nevermore."
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- But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
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- That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
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- Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
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- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before -
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- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
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- Then the bird said, "Nevermore."
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- Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
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- "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
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- Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
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- Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
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- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
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- Of 'Never - nevermore'."
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- But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
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- Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
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- Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
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- Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
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- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
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- Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
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- This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
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- To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
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- This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
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- On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
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- But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
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- She shall press, ah, nevermore!
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- Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
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- Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
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- "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee
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- Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
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- Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
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- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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- "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
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- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
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- Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
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- On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
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- Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
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- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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- "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!
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- By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
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- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
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- It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
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- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
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- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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- "Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting -
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- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
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- Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
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- Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
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- Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
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- Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
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- And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
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- On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
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- And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
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- And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
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- And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
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- Shall be lifted - nevermore!
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