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jl.iqgbgt.wkbfronce upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered weak and weary, ove
r many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, while i nodded, nearly nap
ping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at m
y chamber door. tis some visitor, i muttered, tapping at my chamber door only th
is, and nothing more. ah, distinctly i remember it was in the bleak december, an
d each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. eagerly i wished t
he 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 purpl
e 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 entre
ating entrance at my chamber door some late visitor entreating entrance at my ch
amber door this it is, and nothing more, presently my soul grew stronger hesitat
ing 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 ca
me 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.deep into that darkness
 peering, long i stood there wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mo
rtal ever dared to dream before but the silence was unbroken, and the darkness g
ave no token, and the only word there spoken was the whispered word, lenore this
 i whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, lenore merely this and nothing
 more.back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, soon again i
 heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.surely, said i, surely that is some
thing at my window lattice let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery ex
plore let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore tis the wind and n
othing more open here i flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
in there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. not the least obei
sance made he not a minute stopped or stayed he but, with mien of lord or lady, 
perched above my chamber door perched upon a bust of pallas just above my chambe
r door perched, and sat, and nothing more. then this ebony bird beguiling my sad
 fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 
though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, i said, art sure no craven. ghastly 
grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore tell me what thy lordly 
name is on the nights plutonian shore quoth the raven, nevermore.ilvjiuxri dtomk
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