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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 lamp-light gloated o’er
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But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light 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 foot-falls 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