Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven

Can you recite the entire poem “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe from memory?

Taken from https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48860/the-raven

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Last updated: July 5, 2023

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First submitted	January 26, 2023
Times taken	18
Average score	7.3%
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Once

upon

midnight

dreary,

while

pondered,

weak

and

weary,

Over

many

quaint

and

curious

volume

forgotten

lore—

While

nodded,

nearly

napping,

suddenly

there

came

tapping,

some

one

gently

rapping,

rapping

chamber

door.

“’Tis

some

visitor,”

muttered,

“tapping

chamber

door—

Only

this

and

nothing

more.”

Ah,

distinctly

remember

was

the

bleak

December;

And

each

separate

dying

ember

wrought

its

ghost

upon

the

floor.

Eagerly

wished

the

morrow;—

vainly

had

sought

borrow

From

books

surcease

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

each

purple

curtain

Thrilled

me—

filled

with

fantastic

terrors

never

felt

before;

that

now,

still

the

beating

heart,

stood

repeating

“’Tis

some

visitor

entreating

entrance

chamber

door—

Some

late

visitor

entreating

entrance

chamber

door;—

This

and

nothing

more.”

Presently

soul

grew

stronger;

hesitating

then

longer,

“Sir,”

said

“or

Madam,

truly

your

forgiveness

implore;

But

the

fact

was

napping,

and

gently

you

came

rapping,

And

faintly

you

came

tapping,

tapping

chamber

door,

That

scarce

was

sure

heard

you”—

here

opened

wide

the

door;—

Darkness

there

and

nothing

more.

Deep

into

that

darkness

peering,

long

stood

there

wondering,

fearing,

Doubting,

dreaming

dreams

mortal

ever

dared

dream

before;

But

the

silence

was

unbroken,

and

the

stillness

gave

token,

And

the

only

word

there

spoken

was

the

whispered

word,

“Lenore?”

This

whispered,

and

echo

murmured

back

the

word,

“Lenore!”—

Merely

this

and

nothing

more.

Back

into

the

chamber

turning,

all

soul

within

burning,

Soon

again

heard

tapping

somewhat

louder

than

before.

“Surely,”

said

“surely

that

something

window

lattice;

Let

see,

then,

what

thereat

is,

and

this

mystery

explore—

Let

heart

still

moment

and

this

mystery

explore;—

’Tis

the

wind

and

nothing

more!”

Open

here

flung

the

shutter,

when,

with

many

flirt

and

flutter,

there

stepped

stately

Raven

the

saintly

days

yore;

Not

the

least

obeisance

made

he;

not

minute

stopped

stayed

he;

But,

with

mien

lord

lady,

perched

above

chamber

door—

Perched

upon

bust

Pallas

just

above

chamber

door—

Perched,

and

sat,

and

nothing

more.

Then

this

ebony

bird

beguiling

sad

fancy

into

smiling,

the

grave

and

stern

decorum

the

countenance

wore,

“Though

thy

crest

shorn

and

shaven,

thou,”

said,

“art

sure

craven,

Ghastly

grim

and

ancient

Raven

wandering

from

the

Nightly

shore—

Tell

what

thy

lordly

name

the

Night’s

Plutonian

shore!”

Quoth

the

Raven

“Nevermore.”

Much

marvelled

this

ungainly

fowl

hear

discourse

plainly,

Though

its

answer

little

meaning—

little

relevancy

bore;

For

cannot

help

agreeing

that

living

human

being

Ever

yet

was

blessed

with

seeing

bird

above

his

chamber

door—

Bird

beast

upon

the

sculptured

bust

above

his

chamber

door,

With

such

name

“Nevermore.”

But

the

Raven,

sitting

lonely

the

placid

bust,

spoke

only

That

one

word,

his

soul

that

one

word

did

outpour.

Nothing

farther

then

uttered—

not

feather

then

fluttered—

Till

scarcely

than

muttered

“Other

friends

have

flown

before—

the

morrow

will

leave

me,

Hopes

have

flown

before.”

Then

the

bird

said

“Nevermore.”

Startled

the

stillness

broken

aptly

spoken,

“Doubtless,”

said

“what

utters

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

his

Hope

that

melancholy

burden

bore

‘Never—

nevermore’.”

But

the

Raven

still

beguiling

all

fancy

into

smiling,

Straight

wheeled

cushioned

seat

front

bird,

and

bust

and

door;

Then,

upon

the

velvet

sinking,

betook

myself

linking

Fancy

unto

fancy,

thinking

what

this

ominous

bird

yore—

What

this

grim,

ungainly,

ghastly,

gaunt,

and

ominous

bird

yore

Meant

croaking

“Nevermore.”

This

sat

engaged

guessing,

but

syllable

expressing

the

fowl

whose

fiery

eyes

now

burned

into

bosom’s

core;

This

and

sat

divining,

with

head

ease

reclining

the

cushion’s

velvet

lining

that

the

lamp-light

gloated

o’er,

But

whose

velvet-violet

lining

with

the

lamp-light

gloating

o’er,

She

shall

press,

ah,

nevermore!

Then,

methought,

the

air

grew

denser,

perfumed

from

unseen

censer

Swung

Seraphim

whose

foot-falls

tinkled

the

tufted

floor.

“Wretch,”

cried,

“thy

God

hath

lent

thee—

these

angels

hath

sent

thee

Respite—

respite

and

nepenthe

from

thy

memories

Lenore;

Quaff,

quaff

this

kind

nepenthe

and

forget

this

lost

Lenore!”

Quoth

the

Raven

“Nevermore.”

“Prophet!”

said

“thing

evil!—

prophet

still,

bird

devil!—

Whether

Tempter

sent,

whether

tempest

tossed

thee

here

ashore,

Desolate

yet

all

undaunted,

this

desert

land

enchanted—

this

home

Horror

haunted—

tell

truly,

implore—

there—

there

balm

Gilead?—

tell

me—

tell

me,

implore!”

Quoth

the

Raven

“Nevermore.”

“Prophet!”

said

“thing

evil!—

prophet

still,

bird

devil!

that

Heaven

that

bends

above

us—

that

God

both

adore—

Tell

this

soul

with

sorrow

laden

if,

within

the

distant

Aidenn,

shall

clasp

sainted

maiden

whom

the

angels

name

Lenore—

Clasp

rare

and

radiant

maiden

whom

the

angels

name

Lenore.”

Quoth

the

Raven

“Nevermore.”

“Be

that

word

our

sign

parting,

bird

fiend!”

shrieked,

upstarting—

“Get

thee

back

into

the

tempest

and

the

Night’s

Plutonian

shore!

Leave

black

plume

token

that

lie

thy

soul

hath

spoken!

Leave

loneliness

unbroken!—

quit

the

bust

above

door!

Take

thy

beak

from

out

heart,

and

take

thy

form

from

off

door!”

Quoth

the

Raven

“Nevermore.”

And

the

Raven,

never

flitting,

still

sitting,

still

sitting

the

pallid

bust

Pallas

just

above

chamber

door;

And

his

eyes

have

all

the

seeming

demon’s

that

dreaming,

And

the

lamp-light

o’er

him

streaming

throws

his

shadow

the

floor;

And

soul

from

out

that

shadow

that

lies

floating

the

floor

Shall

lifted—

nevermore!

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