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.
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.
It is implied that this act shall persist until the student has reached his maximum level of pain taking, thus leading to an end to the story.
Edgar Allan Poe constantly emphasizes on the effects of sound to build up the melancholy in ‘The Raven’. The plot revolves around the single utterance of a raven; in fact, any question the student asks is created to end with an echo that rhymes with ‘nevermore’.American publishers refused to print works of a young poet as the copyright law of those times made reprinting British books more profitable business.However, his soldier spirit was strong enough not to give up.Through ‘The Raven’, Poe exemplifies the human need to constantly and knowingly put oneself to torture.The student is also further anguished by his inability to make sense out of the bird’s nonsensical issue.If you ever face the need to compose a research on the art and personality of Edgar Allan Poe, check out this comprehensive sample paper.Use it as a roadmap to composing your own unique piece for college.The word has no meaning, except for having a similar echo to the name of his deceased lover, Lenore.Although it deeply pains the narrator with the altitude increasing with each reply, he keeps on endeavoring the same act.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 all my 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! ” said I, “thing of evil – prophet still, if bird or devil!Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 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? 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! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!