Once upon a midnight dreary, while I flew about in query

Searching for a bit of food to make a proper winter store,

While I flew about in seeking, suddenly there came a peeking

Of a lamp and someone sleeping, sleeping nearby on the floor.

“He is surely drunk,” I muttered, “to be sleeping on the floor.

I will knock upon his door.”

Oh so clearly, I remember, it was winter, late December,

Pure white snow had drifted softly in great piles on the moor.

Yes, I can recall his sorrow, crying that he “wished the morrow,”

Tired of the books he borrowed, borrowed from the man next door.

He was melancholy, saddened by the loss of one adored.

Her shadow drifts upon the moor.

The night was calm but wind was rustling, and the curtains it was tou-

sling

Through the open window bustling to the man upon the floor.

He jumped up, his pulse was fleeting, wholly frozen, just repeating,

“At this hour who is pleading me to let him in my door?

It’s far too late for this entreating me to let him in my door…

Nothing good can be in store.”

Quickly he regained composure and so as not to risk exposure

Shouted loudly these words only, yelled them brashly at the door.

“I beg your pardon, I was napping, and you see, I heard a tapping.

Yes, indeed, there was a rapping, rapping at my chamber door,

And I thought that I had dreamt it”—and he flung open the door.

But I must wait a minute more.

He stood there for a long time peering out into the darkened clearing,

Unsure and frightened, sadly fearing the vast unknown out the door.

But the stillness there was oaken, like a tree with branches broken,

Then there was but one word spoken, the name of his love, lost Lenore.

He spoke the name of her, his broken heart’s obsession: lost Lenore. It was becoming quite a bore.

Both his cheeks were red and burning and with fear I saw him turning

So quickly I took my chance and started tapping as before.

He jumped and spun, “Yes, this is madness!

I must go find out what the threat is!” and he went out to explore.

I stood still and in the darkness he was crouched down on the floor.

“It was a breeze and nothing more.”

I’d had enough and with a flutter, I flew in an open shutter.

He gasped and fell back, pale with terror; he had not seen me here before.

I flew up and quickly landed as he stood there empty handed,

And just as if I’d been in welcome, settled there above the door.

I found a statue he was keeping and since I could not ask for more,

Here I perched above the door.

Outwardly he thought me dreaming but inside my mind was scheming

Ways to end his sad obsession and to cure him evermore.

“Welcome in, thou silent raven. Here,” he said, “will be a haven,

For you, grim and ancient Raven, are most unexpected at my door.

Please, do tell me what your name is, on this cold and darkened shore.”

So I told him: Nevermore.

He was shocked to hear me speaking and that I to him came seeking

Though my answers to him proving nothing he knew not before.

Still he marveled at his fortune and to prove ‘twas no distortion

Watched me as he spilled a portion of his tea upon the floor.

And he kept his eyes upon me thus until near half past four.

“What kind of name is Nevermore?”

And so I sat there, growing lonely, on that statue, cold, the only

Source of warmth the dying fire casting shadows on the floor.

The wind intensified its blowing as my anger started growing,

Soon his unease started showing, asking when I’d leave once more.

“Surely you’ll be gone tomorrow, for you’re a ghost and nothing more.”

But I told him: Nevermore.

At my reply his faith was shaken, but no sign of surprise made him.

I will not give him any hint of things which I hold yet in store

Until the time I prove my power over all these earthly towers

And display the depths of hell which I alone hold kingship o’er.

The vast and flaming vaults of hell which I alone hold kingship o’er -

Where he will dwell forevermore.

Still his madness he kept hidden ‘neath a smile, purely bidden

By his fascination with me, the bird perched upon his door.

Through the window, darkness seeping, on the ceiling shadows leaping,

As I summoned demons creeping quietly across the floor,

Illuminated eyes of demons creeping slowly ‘cross the floor

In pairs and groups of three and four.

At my command the demons waited as he muttered, still frustrated

With my presence at his door: “What does it mean, this nevermore?”

Steadily the lamp-light, fading, gave my devils quiet aiding

As they then began parading in a circle on the floor,

An eerie dance of demons there across the darkened floor,

A hellish rite I lorded o’er.

Suddenly he started shaking, just as if his chair was quaking,

At my devils he saw making blackened footsteps on his floor.

“Fiend!” he cried, “Thy god has sent thee, and your mission to torment

me!

Now! Begone, I do repent the god whom I now stand before!

I do forsake the name of him, the god whom I now stand before!”

But he will know me evermore.

“Scourge!” he cried, “your eyes of malice follow me from Satan’s

palace,

Whether sent by God or whether evil led you to my door;

Your power over me you’ve flaunted and my thoughts by terror haunt

ed,

Quietly you sit undaunted by my screaming, I implore!

Tell me, tell me your dark purpose, give me respite, I implore!”

I spoke softly, “Nevermore.”

“Wretched man, your grief is madness, I command, repent thy sadness!

I am now the god you love, the only god you do adore!

I will not reveal my mission. I order only your submission

To the raging fires of hell, which roar and burn outside your door!

Follow me and me alone, the only god you do adore!

Your only god forevermore!”

The demons thundered curses, screaming as they up the walls went

teeming,

Crimson light o’er all was bleeding from the burning walls and floor.

The empty pit of hell was nearing, bloody flames the chamber searing!

I blinked and promptly disappearing, the demons left us ‘lone once

more,

All the horror disappearing, the chamber empty as before.

All was quiet as before.

In my eyes he saw his sorrow, pain that will withstand tomorrow

And endure as night approaches each new morning evermore.

Over him, the lamp-light streaming lent his features all the seeming

Of a pallid deadman dreaming as he knocks on Heaven’s door.

Now his soul in shadow dreaming stands in front of Heaven’s door,

But he is mine forevermore.