| Title | : | The Raven |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0486290727 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780486290720 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 64 |
| Publication | : | First published January 29, 1845 |
This volume reprints all 26 of Doré's detailed, masterly engravings from a rare 19th-century edition of the poem. Relevant lines from the poem are printed on facing pages and the complete text is also included. Admirers of Doré will find ample evidence here of his characteristic ability to capture the mood and meaning of a work of literature in striking imagery; lovers of The Raven will delight in seeing its mournful musing on love and loss given dramatic pictorial form.
The Raven Reviews
-
The Raven by
Edgar Allan Poe
There is no wonder The Raven is one of the greatest and the most well-known poems. So many emotions are filled into this book. It has full capacity to give one a feeling that every word comes from Poe's soul and may evoke you of your beloved lost one. Highly recommended to listen and read the book at the same time. For this, you won't miss the exceptional illustrations in the book and the narrator's astounding performance.Leave my loneliness unbroken!
Nevermore. -
Shall we descend into madness? Shall we be haunted by our own desires? Shall we be consumed by that terrible facet of life known only as death? Shall we cling to what cannot be reanimated? Shall we wish for a return of something that has long been in darkness?
Shall we become obliterated by the brutal finality of such a statement as “nevermore?”
Lenore has gone. She has departed from this life, and is permanently out of the reach of the man. The raven represents the solidarity of this. Despite how much he longs for the impossible, despite how much he hopes for something that could never occur, he still has that inclination that the fantastical could happen: he has to believe that she could come back. And the raven represents the voice of reason, the voice of actuality. And it kills him. It is pain, despair, melancholy and a spiritual death all rolled into one haunting feathery package.
He rebels against this voice of rationality. He knows the voice speaks the truth, but he cannot simply accept it. He has lost something vital; he has lost part of himself that will never grace his presence again. And he clings to hope, a false hope such as it is. The raven smashes this to oblivion; it destroys any last semblance of the miraculous occurring. It makes the man realise that this is life, not some whimsical world where nothing bad ever happens. People die. People we love die. Nothing can change that. Lenore will never walk through his chamber door again, and the reality drives him into madness. It shatters his life.
”And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!”
His soul will never lift anymore; hope shall never be lifted anymore. By the end of the poem he has full realised the reality of the situation. The raven, the dark bird of harsh truth, the harbinger of the words he simply doesn’t want to hear, has become demonised. It has become the very object he did not want to face; he created a sense of longing to protect himself from the emotional loss of Lenore, and this bubble of falsehood has been burst. Reality sets in, and it is a fate worse than death. It is one of persecution and mental chaos as the bird is simply unable to supply the man with all his answers. He is driven mad by the unknown.
The man in the poem has lost “Lenore.” But, what is this Lenore? Is she a woman? Is she this man’s lost love? Or is she something much, much, more? I think on the surface level of the poem she is his dead wife. But the archaic references speak of something else. Lenore could perhaps be a universal suggestion of a lost sense of self or even humanity. We are no longer what we once were. It is also rather significant that the man is persecuted only by the natural world. Very much in the Romanticism vein, man stands aside from nature. He has become something different with his modernisation and industrialisation.
He walks outside his nature. And Poe, being an anti-transcendentalism thinker (a dark romantic), demonstrates that life isn’t all sunshine and roses, and nor could it ever be. It is pessimism in full force, and although I strongly disagree with the outlook on life, and appreciate the idealistic utopia offered in the poetry of Percy Shelley and other Romantics much more, I do love the dark beauty of this poem. The finality of the phrase “nevermore” is nothing short of maddening reality for our lost man. It is the end of hope.
This is quite easily one of Poe's finest works, and I highly recommend listening to this version of the poem:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Befli... (It's narrated by Christopher Lee!)
-
The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe
The Raven is a narrative poem by American writer Edgar Allan Poe. First published in January 1845, the poem is often noted for its musicality, stylized language, and supernatural atmosphere.
It tells of a talking raven's mysterious visit to a distraught lover, tracing the man's slow fall into madness. The lover, often identified as being a student, is lamenting the loss of his love, Lenore.
Sitting on a bust of Pallas, the raven seems to further instigate his distress with its constant repetition of the word "Nevermore".
The poem makes use of a number of folk, mythological, religious, and classical references.
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.
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.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave 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 something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing 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 obeisance 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 chamber 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 Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther 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 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 an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
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?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
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 of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
تاریخ نخستین خوانش روز نخست ماه آوریل سال 2006میلادی
عنوان: کلاغ؛ شاعر: ادگار آلن پو؛ بازسرایش: سپیده جدیری؛ تهران، ماهریز، 1385؛ در 126ص؛ شابک: 9647729634؛ موضوع: شعرهای شاعران ایالات متحده آمریکا سده 19م
عنوان: کلاغ و اشعار دیگر؛ شاعر: ادگار آلن پو؛ مترجم: محمدصادق رئیسی؛ تهران، پیام امروز، 1395؛ در 173ص؛ شابک9789645706935؛
شعر کلاغ: بازسرایش خانم «سپیده جدیری»؛
در انزوای نیمه شبی دلتنگ
آنگه که او چو خاطره ای کمرنگ
اندیشه های تلخ مرا اندود
چشمان من ز خواب، بخارآلود
ناگه کوبه های کسی بر در
آرام، همچو زمزمه نجواگر
نجوای من به خویش، ملامتگر
یک میهمان خسته ی ناهنگام
یک میهمان خسته و دیگر هیچ
اینک به خاطر آورم آن را، آه
ماه دسامبر، نیمه شبی جانکاه
گویی گذار روشن اخگر بود
روحی که در اتاق شناور بود
در حسرت سپیده دمان بودم
بیهوده، در تلاش گریز از غم
آری، غمش مرا به جهان ت��ته ست
دوشیزه ای که از کف من رفته ست
بی نام دوشیزه ی اینجا بود
بی نام، سربسته و دیگر هیچ
آنگاه، خش خشی که مرا افکند
در چنگ تـَنگ وحشت بی مانند
از قلب سرخ پرده برون آمد
نجوای من دوباره نهیبم زد
یک میهمان خسته ی ناهنگام
یک میهمان خسته و دیگر هیچ
گفتم: ببخش، منتظر بر در
گویی ز قعر خواب شنید این سَر
آنک کسی به کوبه ی پر تردید
در را - چنان که زمزمه ای - کوبید
در باز ش�� به عمق سیاه شب
یک شامگاه تیره و دیگر هیچ
بر شامگاه تیره نگه کردم
با دیدگان خیره نگه کردم
اما سکوت با سخنی نشکست
جز با «لـِنور»، دخترک سرمست
نامش چنان سرود غم انگیزی
جاری شد، اندر آن شب پائیزی
پر زد «لـِنور»، از لب من در دشت
پژواک آن دوباره به من برگشت
بی نام دوشیزه ی اینجا بود
بی نام، سربسته و دیگر هیچ
...
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 15/07/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ 04/06/1400هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی -
A comprehensive and exhaustive work of Poe, on a lover’s grief and affliction, lamenting over his tragic lost love. With the focus on death, the supernatural, battle between emotions vs cogency, the poem circles around “Dark Romanticism”
The poem’s opening line, sets the perfect meter for grief and distress-
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary
The narrator is wearied out, and finds the night to be totally depressing and drab!
The 3 main characters of the poem are-
1. The Narrator, who supposedly reads books on “lore”/ legends, and is a scholar, lost in the world of books.
2. The Raven, the speaking bird, who won’t leave the narrator alone, and is a perfect symbol of depression and death.
3. Lenore, the dead wife/lover, symbolizing the tragic lost love.
Poem's Plot-
The unnamed lonely narrator, finds solace post losing his love/wife, in books. He distracts himself by reading, when he hears a tap at his door-
“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping”
Desperately wishing, that his dead wife has returned back, all he hears is just an echo back of his spoken word!
“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.”
Retreating back to his chamber, he hears a tapping on his window, and sees a stately Raven, landing on the bust of Pallas above his chamber door!
“In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;”
The Raven can speak, and answers to all the narrator’s questions with the repeated word- “Nevermore”
The word, “Nevermore” holds the highest significance in the poem, as it assures the narrator that he can find Lenore never again, and his affliction is permanent!
The poem leaves us pondering, if the Raven is actually replying to all his questions with the word “Nevermore” or is the narrator hallucinating and fantasizing in melancholy, and crashing into a deep abyss of madness and perpetual and incessant grief!
The recitation, is full of mesmer and music!
Few of the notable points-
The Raven, has been addressed as many things - prophet, wretch, an ill-omen, thing of evil, "whether tempter sent" (probably referring as a tempest!)
The dead lover is reverently referenced to as – “a radiant maiden" and "a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore"
The best part of the poem, is the amalgamation of Paganism and Christianity with the diligent allusion to symbols. Sharing a few-
The Book of Lore – Probably Poe here references to the books on occult and black magic!
Pallas - The raven lands on the head of the bust representing Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom. Poe here implies, that the narrator is a scholar and well-read!
Night's Plutonian shore- Pluto, is regarded to be the God of the Underworld. Here Poe, may be trying to infer the raven as the messenger from the afterlife/after-death!
Nepenthe – is a drug that erases memory, from one of my personal favorites- “The Odyssey” by Homer! It is used here to lessen the pain of losing the lover.
Balm in Gilead - A soothing ointment found in the mountainous region of Palestine!
Aidenn - An Arabic word meaning Garden of Eden/Paradise. Poe uses the word to ask if Lenore can be accepted into Heaven.
Seraphim- In The Bible (Isaiah:6): "fiery ones," a high ranking, six-winged angel. It also refers to as an invisible way a scent profusely spreads in a room.
A 5-star showered, for the word “Nevermore”, as he can never see his dead wife again! An endless melancholy of lost love has been surgically and intricately represented in the utmost musical and mesmeric way. Only Allan Poe could have done this. I am in an irreversible awe!
NB- The narrator, tried to escape from the irrevocable grief by locking himself in a chamber (the main setting of this poem). This solitary chamber, turns out not to be impenetrable from the unending thoughts of the Lost Lenore! The lovers have been put asunder! Melancholy has invaded his life in entirety, and so has Poe’s magic on me! 😊
I still can’t come to terms, that a poem based on irrevocable grief and lamentations, has won a 5-star from me! :-O
Kudos to Poe! -
The Raven is a piercing piece by Edgar Allan Poe who I am reading for the very first time. I read it with holding the breath in an unnamable, haunting feeling due to the eerie atmosphere created by the poet through the verses. It’s a dreary, windy winter night with only a flicker of an old lamp burning like a symbol of hope, you feel the crushing effect on your heart, which is pounding heavily, of such a gothic setting, the horror gets intensified when the poundings on the rags of your old door, hit our soul than anything else. The unnamed narrator sits upon one such late December night, mourning over the loss of his beloved, Lenore, suddenly, someone tries to snatch even his procession of grieving from him as if he can’t even lament over his loss when he hears the prospects of thunderous intrusion from someone through the door.
link:
source
Who could it be? Someone insane, someone known or the God himself to assuage him to withstand his great loss or the devil who wants him to suffer as if he doesn’t have right to express his sorrow or some prophet who may prophesize something about his beloved- Lenore. The narrator contemplated with bated breath over the possibilities and horrors of the probable uninvited guest to eventually find out that it was an ebony, lustrous, shimmering ‘raven’ who appears to be a prophet of the God, the prophet who seems to be in some divine space, unaffected by mere mortals, speaking with angelic demeanor only one word- ‘Nevermore’.
The narrator incessantly ponders upon the probable meanings, allusions of the word uttered by the ‘raven’, the very meaning of the raven’s existence seems elusive too to him. There is a multitude of possibilities of the word- ‘Nevermore’ which the narrator explores throughout the poem, it fills his heart with warmth and geniality that whether he would be able to see his beloved Lenore again in the afterlife- heaven. The narrator asks the raven with full of hope and belief about it but the godlike raven seems to be in a heavenly expanse, responding enigmatically to the heart-wrenching but innocent queries of the narrator with only ‘Nevermore.’
‘The Raven’ is a great example of narrative poetry, in which a story is being told, often having a narrator and giving voice to him/ her and other characters too, the entire story is generally being written in a metered verse. The poem is a profound study of loneliness, grieving, insanity, melancholy, prophecy, and more than anything else it is about madness. It is essentially about the exploration of the fact that sometimes logic could not justify our intense and deepest feelings such as grief and mourning.
link:
source
The opium of hope which one carries throughout one’s life, our narrator perhaps also relies on it to recover from the heart-breaking loss of his beloved and to get some solace from his unremitting suffering, even if in the afterlife but, as usually happens in life, his founding of any hope and longing is crushed to nothingness, thrusting him from grief and despair to anguish and desperation. The battle a man fights may not be as gruesome as physical ones but leaves bruises and wounds deeper than physical battles seem to be capable of, perhaps deep down the heart of an individual. The raven seems to have parlance of a devil emerging from heaven or hell, robs the narrator of any traces of normality and eventually, madness takes over, surmising that time is the only healer in life and nothing else may be capable to provide comfort and solace to a man from his sufferings.
The raven may say to be a symbol to represent the actual reality in life though it may utter only one word, in a sense that one needs to accept and which our narrator seems to deny- the loss of Lenore, we see that the narrator moves from his endless rumination over the loss of his beloved maiden to manifestation of evil. Ravens are generally considered in various civilizations to have connotations of death, as the narrator himself notes when he refers to the bird as coming from “Night’s Plutonian shore,” or the underworld. The raven emphasizes the fact that the narrator may never meet his love, neither in this world nor in any other as she has become ‘nameless’ and formless, she ceases to exist and the narrator is condemned to live in this world realizing and recognizing its reality by leaving out any seeming elixir of impossible hope.
How difficult is it to make peace with life, to accept life as it is? More often than not, we see that people tend to live with their sufferings as if they find some unseen comfort in them but our brains behave differently than we think and our grief, loss, and sufferings make it act in funny ways some of which may be completely insane and full of madness. It reminds me of The Body Artist by Don DeLillo, I read recently, and which is also a profound study of how we react during intense grief and loss underlining the fact that often madness wins over sanity and our narrator of the poem here is no exception to that.
It was my first read of Edgar Allan Poe and I thoroughly enjoyed it and looking forward to reading more of him. Highly recommended for everyone.
4.5/5 -
Nevermore! ...........
Read this poem, listen to this poem and study the drawings of Gustave Dore... and know this is a unique masterpiece. Hauntingly beautiful. Brooding, dark, desperate, mysterious... These starting lines are famous I think:
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 visiter," I muttered,
"tapping at my chamber door --
Only this, and nothing more."
Hauntingly beautiful. The encounter of a man mourning over his deceased wife Lenore and a darkblack raven.....And the additional beauty of it, go to YouTube and listen to a really brooding telling by Sir Christopher Lee. Listen how he says "Nevermore!" in a gruelling way. I first read it, studied the drawings and then I started listening.... And if you search further there are tellings by Christopher Walken and of course, Vincent Price. All wonderful and weird, intriguing.
Edgar Allen Poe, what was in his mind? Brilliant writer!
....Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
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....
Christopher Lee:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Befli...
Christopher Walken:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7G_f...
Vincent Price:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7zR3... -
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Themes such as loss and relentless melancholy - nothing foreign to Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) - combined with a repetitive rhythm that gives it a unique and gradually oppressive musicality resulted in one of the best literary works of all time, The Raven.
This edition, first published in 1844, includes the steel-plate engravings by renowned French artist Gustave Doré (1832–1883), who died shortly after completing the series.
This is the second time I read Poe's masterpiece and it was an entirely different experience. After several poetry collections, I was able to appreciate his creative genius and connect with his words on another level, something I couldn't do many years ago.
The following excerpt is part of the Introduction. In few words, Poe's haunting Raven was portrayed with utmost perfection.The Mirror's editor, Nathaniel P. Willis included a short preface to "The Raven", in which he wrote:
In our opinion, it is the most effective single example of "fugitive poetry" ever published in this country, and unsurpassed in English poetry for subtle conception, masterly ingenuity of versification, and consistent sustaining of imaginative lift...
July 23,18
* Also on
my blog. -
Beautiful, classic prose.
Reread as part of going through his complete works. This one will always be one of my favorites! -
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than
before
WoW! What a poem it is!!
I am not into poems that much but this poem is exceptionally awesome. I couldn't stop reading this. I have read this poem at least 3 times by now. It's just that amazing. Once you started, you couldn't be able to stop until the end.
I have fallen in love with this poem of E. A. Poe. Madly!! I have even downloaded its audio version. And that's also really great.
I will not be spoiling any part of it. I would highly recommend this poem. It's just a five minutes read guys! Go head! Read it!
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem...
For audio version:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Befli...
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave 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.
22 January, 2017 -
Borges considera que no es un buen poema de Poe y no seré yo quien diga lo contrario. Cada uno tiene sus gustos.
Este poema me ha evocado miedo, pérdida, nostalgia de amor. No es una maravilla por como está escrito, sino por todo lo que transmite y por su originalidad.
Así lo he vivido yo.
Borges considers it's not a good poem by Poe and I will not say otherwise. Everyone has his own ideas.
This poem has evoked fear, loss, longing for love. It is not a marvel for how it is written, but for all that it conveys and for its originality.
This is how I have experienced it. -
One freezing December evening, a man in his room, dozing over his book, thought of Lenore, his now-deceased sweetheart.
But noise at her door knocked her out of her reverie. After making several hypotheses and finally making up its mind, it opens up and, despite its inactivity, to a majestic crow. Amused but intrigued, he stupidly asks her name. The raven then responds, "Never again". The narrator questions himself and asks other questions.
But the crow responds every time, Never again.
Paralyzed, the man realizes that he is under the influence of the raven until the next day, which only repeats "never again".
The somewhat magical atmosphere is veiled as soon as the raven arrives, making the narrator sink into a paralyzing madness.
That's a bird-filled room with its shadow, which never refrains more.
The poetic writing makes the narration tenser. How can a simple crow be so scary?
And also, I couldn't do this review without mentioning The Simpsons, who directed it for their first Simpson Horror Show. Even thanks to them, I heard the raven when I was little. -
Happy Halloween, EAP! This is probably the best poem in history ever to have sold for $9. But what is it about? That's a more difficult question. The poem has undeniable power, but its power (as in much of Poe) is not entirely susceptible of rational explication.
First, there's the sheer liturgical music of the poem, as evidenced from the very opening lines:
"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 visiter,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more.'"
We've technically got 8-syllable troches here (trochaic octometer?), with the stress on the first syllable of each line, but the real genius is how the rhymes weave in and out of the lines, with the rhymes not just happening at the end of each line but also in between (dreary / weary; napping / tapping). As a reader, you get so caught up in the sing-song rhymes that what exactly is happening seems secondary, and the fact that it's often opaque seems irrelevant to its linguistic power. Or perhaps it heightens its power in the same way as the Latin Mass, through the sheer rhythmic beauty of the sounds themselves.
Because really almost nothing is explained here--who's Lenore? What's the raven doing? Was there another visitor at the door? What does "nevermore" mean?
No, as in much of Poe, what's transcendent here is the feeling, the emotion, of dread, loss, and the slow descent into madness, until at the end, "the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting" about his door, "And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted--nevermore!" -
First... you must read the introductory stanza from
Edgar Allan Poe's famous poem,
The Raven. And then I'll provide a short review:
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 someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
And this is what will happen to you once you read it:
Yeah, I probably should have told you that part first, huh? But that's the thing about Mr. Poe. He enjoyed the fact that his writing drove him crazy. And all of us. That tapping... non-stop... reminds you of his other work,
The Tell-Tale Heart.
This raven and its real or imaginary appearance is such a powerful image. And here's the thing about this poem... you need to have a professional read this poem aloud, perhaps with a little music in the background. Just a little bit, as the words in the poem... the rhymes, the images... it's ghastly. And if the speaker is as brilliant as Poe, (s)he will alter their voice as each line erupts, enticing the rhythm and the beat. And when it happens, the fear will surround you. The words will penetrate you as your eyes ears lay still, absorbing the melody and the lyrics.
It may sound funny, but find a recording of it. Listen to it in a semi-dark room. And just let the poem attack your mind and body. I believe it's what inspired the boat ride in the Willy Wonka movie... only much darker. You will love it!
About Me
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https://thisismytruthnow.com, where you'll also find TV & Film reviews, the revealing and introspective 365 Daily Challenge and lots of blogging about places I've visited all over the world. And you can find all my social media profiles to get the details on the who/what/when/where and my pictures. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Vote in the poll and ratings. Thanks for stopping by.
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Am I the only one creeped out by ravens? Every time I hear mention of them I shudder. I mean, come on. Have you ever heard one croak? Second question; have you ever heard a tree full of them croak? I have.
There I was, minding my own business, just trying to walk home from the bus stop. I didn’t even see them until I was directly beneath the tree. I heard this strange rustling sound and thought it was weird because the leaves had already fallen. Naturally, I paused to look up. What was I met with?
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic but I was eleven and they were just up there…looking at me…with their beady little eyes…and their stabby little beaks. Then one opened its mouth and croaked. Then another joined in. Then another.
I ran the rest of the way home. I was convinced that it was some kind of omen and I was going to die within 24 hours. My mom didn’t buy it. That heartless woman made me go to school. I spent the next day acting like some kind of little schizo, jumping at noises, slinking down hallways, screaming whenever a loud noise went off. What? I had an overactive imagination as a kid.
Ravens still creep me out. Crows too. They hang out in groups called murders. They’re far too intelligent for comfort. It’s in the eyes, in the way they just…stare at you.
*shudder*
Did you know that they can count to five? One species even makes its own tools. And another…sorry, I’m getting off topic. I avoided reading this poem until I was in my twenties. I’d read all of his other works before I sucked it up and attempted this. It gave me nightmares.
I suggest never reading Poe’s thoughts on this poem. It takes the magic away. His approach to writing it was too clinical, too structured. I like to ignore what he said about his method and picture him gaunt and disheveled, crouched over a piece of parchment and scribbling away like a madman.
I’ll leave you with my favorite passage:“And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!”
This review can also be found at
The Book Eaters. -
Can't count how many times I've read this. It's brilliant. No, that doesn't do it justice. It's...
And The Simpsons very first Halloween episode did a good job with it too. 👤 -
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 visiter," I muttered,
"tapping at my chamber door --
Only this, and nothing more."
I had started reading the Raven before but was never able to quite get through it. When I came across this illustrated version at my library I decided to give it another shot. The illustrated version made it so much better. The illustrations by Ryan Price are dark and gritty… much like the story of the Raven. I’ve read several illustrated books this year that have added a certain something to the already great story (
A Monster Calls comes immediately to mind) and the Raven is no exception.
You can find a few more illustrations by Ryan Price from the book
here but I would also recommend checking out the rest of his work
here as well, although I must say I think his work in the Raven is my favorite.
-
You know the place between sleep and wake, the place where you can still remember dreaming, it’s a worst place to be in when you no longer can sleep nor can dream.we,the humans are a doomed species who ever breathed on planet earth, the moments we cherish turns into memories, the things we desire become wishes, the people we love turns into strangers, and the present we live becomes past…
We all live our dear life with a feel of loss, we all devise altered approaches to seek peace, we all at some phase of our life are rendered alone in a crowd of people around us, we all want to be more understood than loved, we all want someone to hear us when our inner voice is too deafening to hear anything, we all have heard the tapping of something at our window, we all have called those at the past night who are no longer with us, and we’ve heard them answering to our call, talking to us in whispers, when the eyes sleep but heart beats in a relentless rhythm, we hear them,beacause we so want to..
Poe, has a distinct eminence in saying so much with so little words, One can virtually sense the drabness and the loneness he must have felt being alone in his study with barely a fire left and everything dark around him. It almost is letting you think he is completely lost in his own misery from his loss, the loss of his loved one, narrator in his sleep-wake state hears the tapping on window, and at first encounters nothing but darkness.
Raven, can surely be the imagination of the narrator and so is the whole dialogue that proceeds, but using this bird only, has its own regard, Raven is a historical figure in bible, Norse mythology and other references, it symbolizes bad omen, thought and memory, death, darkness, wisdom and at times superiority, and we glimpse all the symbolism visualized through lines.
Whatever caused the poet to die early, The Raven and its symbolism has to do with his psychosis….
and as he says:
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.... -
¡Y pensar que Edgar Allan Poe recibió tan sólo 10 dólares por su poema más famoso y uno de los más memorables en la historia de la literatura!
Originalmente había pensado en llamarlo "The Parrot", pero la elección del cuervo le dio un lustre más oscuro de lúgubre desasosiego del yo lírico que declama la pérdida de su querida Lenore.
La aliteración utilizada en el poema es única (como en el caso de su otro poema "The Bells"), y será eterno.
Forevermore! -
Nevermore!
RAISE RAVENS...
First of all, two things...
...one, I classified this poem as a "short story" since I haven't read so much poetry as to justify a tag for that in my personal list to describe books...
...two, I rated 4 stars, since kinda the same reason, due I haven't developed a knack for poetry, but since I was curious about this poem by Edgar Allan Poe, still I read it, and certainly I liked it quite a bit, but it's some hard to enjoy for me poetry. Nobody's fault.
This is easily one of the most famous poems of all time and one of the masterpieces in the middle of Poe's works.
And this edition has the plus of having the gorgeous illustrations by Gustave Doré (that I already knew about him thanks to "Pawn Stars" where another book illustrated by him was taken there).
Funny thing is that most people think that a talking raven is a paranormal element, in an episode of "Doctor Who" (Capaldi's era) was shown ravens talking too as something unusual, but I watched a TV show in "Nat Geo Wild" where they informed that ravens indeed learn to "talk", much like parrots, repeating words that they heard. Ravens even do a "funeral" ceremony for those dead ravens that they find, reuniting for a moment around the fallen comrade. Amazing animals, the ravens are.
In this captivating poem, a male character is mourning the loss of his lover, Lenore, and in the middle of his sorrow, a raven gets into the room, and while the bird only says "Nevermore", the male character manages to think that this raven is answering all his questions, not matter how diverse are.
When you are in deep pain...
...you only hear what you want to hear...
...even if it makes you angry. -
-
To be honest, I picked up this one seeing the word 'illustrated' and (oh boy!) I am not disappointed.
Reading this one has taken out the part of my being which LOVES dark themes of human imagination.
I totally fell for the dark, black and white themed gory illustration!
Then there's the story in poetry format which I absolutely loved reading.
I don't think I would have loved this one without the illustrations.
I love the play of words and the classic rhyming pattern.
This has got my imagination run wild!
Made me think of vampires and ghosts and angels and demons and god.
Warning: Don't read it at midnight unless it's Halloween.
Because you will start missing Halloween.
No, no! Be scared those who will get scared by reading this (I don't mind☺️). -
-
Look who’s tweeting now!
Fear for fear’s sake - Delusions empowered!
Heard it on The Scarecrow News last night. A tale of ominous foreboding. Tapping, rapping, something happening in the world, filling the soul with fear and worry. What happened last night in the barren field? The Scarecrow shouts it out:
“Who would believe it? The ravens? We let many in, and it has caused problems we wouldn’t have thought possible!”
But what happened? Rumours spread. Thousands and thousands of ravens attacked the Scarecrow in the middle of the barren field? Checking the facts, the guardians of the field say:
“’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
But the wind? The wind can’t have done all that alone? (“All what?”, the croaking ravens ask. “Nothing happened last night in the barren field!”)
“There must be more. Evermore! A Raven Field Massacre?”
Rumours spread with every tweet, the more the twitter rises, the more it sounds familiar, and thus true. Tweeting in a circle of calculated fear.”Thousands and thousands of ravens attacked the Scarecrow in the middle of the barren field? Why did they do it? What for?” The birds are tweeting in reply: “Nothing happened, tell no lies, nevermore, nevermore!”
And the Scarecrow scornful: “I have the freedom to tweet, just like the birds. Scarecrows have the right to claim their honest lies against the dishonest facts! I will tweet it out, evermore, evermore!”
Ravens in fear, croaking and tapping, rapping and croaking:
“Our food is gone, the earth is scorched, we can’t survive nevermore!”
The Scarecrow yells: “See, they are violent, they are activists, we must protect our country from the ravens. They want to take our freedom away, our food, our jobs, our right to destroy their natural habitat!”
“Let’s build a wall, with a roof, to shut them out.
Then they can fly around in the air somewhere! Why should we care?
Scarecrows first!”
And Scarecrow News reports, the wall will pay for itself, it will protect the scarecrows, and make the barren field safe again. The croaking and tapping and rapping from the supporters of the ravens is just humbug, a staged fight. All the other birds love the scarecrow, and the scarecrow loves them.
Voices mingle, louder and louder, croaking versus shouting, choking versus pouting:
“But nothing will grow on the barren field: Nevermore!”
“And the Scarecrow is unharmed, surely that is proof that the ravens did not attack it?”
But the Scarecrow News knows better.
“If the Scarecrow says something happened in the barren field last night, then it did, regardless of whether there is any proof or not. You have to skip the sources, and go straight to truth! The raven supporters are the enemy of the entire scarecrow nation! And of all the honest birds as well! Their call for free flight for all is disgusting and sad! So sad!”
The Scarecrow promises:
“Let’s make the scarecrows great again!”
The ravens around the world remember, tapping, rapping, croaking:
“We have heard that before! And people said: Nevermore!”
And the ravens continue croaking, sometimes joking, always reminding the scarecrows of the real nightmare, the one with the ravens robbed of their rightful place in the community of living things, not the made-up story of the ravens attacking the scarecrow. It didn’t happen last night in the barren field! Why would ravens want to go there anyway? No food, no security, people shooting at them, a ridiculous Scarecrow swaggering in the middle of it all?
But the Scarecrow has no peace:
“But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I built the greatest wall 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.”
And the ravens keep croaking! It is the scarecrow that is a fake - scary but hollow! Hollow but threatening, dangerous in its hollowness!
In a barren field of fear, history repeats itself. But the ravens croak, louder and louder.
… Nevermore, nevermore, nevermore ... -
Fue mi primera experiencia con un audiolibro de este libro. Y fue espectacular, me hizo hasta temblar con ese maldito cuervo.
Tan corto y sencillo, pero buenísimo. -
Dentro de mi ignorancia, siempre tuve la ridícula creencia de que la poesía no eran más que rimas y versos, con puras temáticas cursis y románticas que estén bellamente escritas para hacer que las mujeres (funado por machista) den un gran suspiro tras leer cada estrofa; pero, esta lectura me enseñó que estaba bien equivocado. En este poema tan célebre de su autor, conoceremos a un hombre atormentado por la soledad tras la pérdida de su esposa, quien posteriormente recibirá la compañía de un peculiar cuervo que tiene la capacidad de hablar, pero que tan solo puede pronunciar una sola palabra. Una premisa bastante atrayente, pero ¿se aplicará esto a su lectura? ¿Realmente es ésta el opus magnun de Poe? Ay... 😬
En una primera instancia, pensé que esto se basaba en los mismos personajes que en Eleonora, solo que el nombre de la mujer en esta oportunidad es Leonora. Creí que podía ser un error de traducción, pero buscando información comprobé que no es el caso. Antes de cerciorarme sobre eso, estaba convencidísimo de que esta trama se situaba en Eleonora, durante algún punto previo a que el protagonista conozca a Ermengarde; lo cual me lleva a reflexionar en que el parecido entre ambos nombres femeninos no es para nada una casualidad. Es por esta razón que me gusta imaginar que El cuervo es una especie de sucesor espiritual de Eleonora en alguna línea temporal alterna, donde el protagonista nunca conoce a Ermengarde. Realmente espero que Poe lo haya concebido e ideado de esta forma, porque el contexto y trasfondo de ambos títulos son muy parecidos.
También siento que este cuervo podría perfectamente ser una reencarnación de la amada Leonora, aunque esta compañía termine siendo más para el protagonista. Este pájaro agorero es un claro recordatorio de su soledad, ya que difícilmente el personaje principal se sentirá acompañado de este animal.
Esta obra contiene varias referencias a la mitología grecorromana, por lo que no me cabe duda de que debe connotar bastantes simbolismos para relecturas.
Ahora sí, llegó el momento de mi experiencia con este famoso poema y es evidente que causaré polémica. Con plena certeza, puedo decir que esta es mi peor lectura de Poe hasta el momento; pero no me malinterpreten, la historia me parece fabulosa como ya mencioné en la premisa. Muy buena historia, pero encuentro extremadamente mal que haya sido llevada a cabo en formato de poema. Esto no le causa ninguna justicia a El cuervo y le resta mucho. Probablemente si esta historia hubiese sido un cuento corto como su autor nos tiene ya acostumbrados, y en donde se aprecie la caída del protagonista hacia la locura empujado por este pájaro, probablemente se situaría entre lo mejor de su bibliografía. Ese es el principal problema que le encuentro a El cuervo como material literario: el ser un poema. Es por esto último que no sé cómo apreciar a esta obra, ya que me causó menos que Eleonora. Se siente como cuando te compras un paquete de papas fritas y hay más aíre que contenido. Mucha fama tiene El cuervo y muy poco snack.
Estoy totalmente desconectado de este título. Me sorprende sobremanera que casi toda la iconografía del autor sea sobre cuervos. Inclusive, mi ejemplar (o espécimen) de Narraciones extraordinarias que estoy leyendo para reseñar con todos sus relatos, tiene en su portada a esta ave de mal agüero que se ve genial; pero que dicha genialidad no es aplicable a su lectura, si es que no se es adepto a la poesía.
Trataré de simplificar las cosas para dar mi calificación, ya que aparentemente aún no me he dado a entender del todo. Nuevamente ejemplificaré con mi caballito de batalla: Los anteojos. Dicho relato tiene la trama que menos me ha gustado y/o motivado de todas las que he leído hasta el momento, pero no es la peor lectura. Hay otros trabajos de Poe con mejores tramas y premisas, pero que han sido peores lecturas y con las que he conectado menos; y El cuervo al ser un poema, no conectó conmigo. Siento que este formato narrativo también afectó a la traducción de la edición que estoy leyendo, porque con los cuentos y relatos cortos no he sentido eso. No quiero usar el tema de la traducción como justificación o excusa por no haber podido disfrutar para nada a este poema, porque ni siquiera me interesa leer la versión de Julio Cortázar.
Finalmente llegó el momento en el que me van a querer lanzar por la borda, arrojar a los leones, condenar a la horca y sentenciar a la guillotina, cual reina de corazones; debido a que, sin lugar a dudas, al ser mi peor lectura de este autor, la posiciono de forma inmediata al último lugar del top 28 que estoy armando por ahora. Encantado la hubiese calificado con 1.5 estrellas, pero por tener una buena e interesante trama, será una puntuación más alta. Si no fuese por esto último, mi generosidad no sería la misma.
Mi calificación final para El cuervo es de ★★☆☆☆. Se ganó media estrella más solamente por su interesante trasfondo y por abrirme los ojos a una perspectiva que no conocía acerca de la poesía, debido a mi ignorancia en este campo.
En conclusión, no comprendo ni me interesa adentrarme en este género literario, y eso que tuve la mente totalmente abierta para la presente obra. No es absolutamente para nada lo mío y esto afectó sobremanera a este título y mi percepción.
Si un clásico glorificado, endiosado e idolatrado por todos no te convence, hay que atreverse a decirlo y no caer en falsedades banales y superficiales para quedar bien; esto te da más autenticidad y refuerza tu pensamiento crítico, para cuestionarme mejor las cosas y no seguir a las masas solo porque sí.
La historia que se presenta quizás pueda ser recordable en el tiempo, pero como lectura es totalmente olvidable. Una rareza que toda la iconografía del autor se base en esto, cuando está a eones de ser su mejor trabajo (al menos para mí).
No recomiendo El cuervo bajo ningún motivo a quienes nunca hayan leído a Poe y quieran empezar con él el adentrarse con este poema.
Para no perder el hilo con las demás reseñas de Narraciones extraordinarias:
- Precedida de Eleonora:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
- Seguida por El escarabajo de oro:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... -
A macabre poem depicting a man driven to excruciating loneliness and grief from being unable to let go of the memories of his dead lover Lenore. It's a tragic tale full of death and sorrow, a tale of how one's unwillingness to let go of dark memories and past tragedies will only push them to the edge of insanity. A gothic classic.
***
If you're looking for ambient music that's perfect for reading fantasy, horror, sci-fi, comics, manga and other books like this one, then be sure to check out my YouTube Channel called Nightmarish Compositions:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPPs... -
So what do you do when you can’t sleep even the clock tell you its 2’o clock of the night? You creep yourself out by reading creepy poems where a Raven talks back to you, saying ...Nevermore...
Still can’t sleep? Listen to
this rendition. (It mostly scares the daylights out of me)
Here are two of my most favorite passages, which I could once, long time back, in another lifetime, recite by rote
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave 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.
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!”
P.S: this usually manages to throw me into throes of despondency -
Wonderful art captures the impending doom that permeates this poem - listen to Christopher Lee recite this poem on YouTube as you turn the pages...SENDS SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE!
-
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 madien whom the angels named "Lenore"..
Nameless here for evermore..
خسارة تتبعها خسارة تتبعها خسارة..تلك كانت حياة ذاك الرجل..إدجار آلان بو.
عاش منبوذاً كسيراً سكيراً، سلبه الموت حب حياته مرتين..
رحل ادجار آلان بو عن عالمنا مُفلساً وحيداً لا يعرفه أحد، و لم يشهد تقديراً كافياً لابداعه خلال حياته..ماتت حبيبته آنابيل لي جراء السُل أمام عينيه و لم يملك شيئا يمنحه لها سوي قلباً دافئاً و قطاً يرجوه أن يجلس قليلاً علي قدميها الحبيبتين ليمنحهما بعض الدفء..
And the raven,never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door..
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming..
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor..
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted..nevermore.
جسّد العظيم جون كوزاك شخصيته ك تكريم لذكراه في فيلم رائع باسم القصيدة..
The raven.
القصيدة كاملة منطوقة..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BefliM...
أُرشحهما معاً، القصيدة من أفضل ما قرأت له و الفيلم يستحق المشاهدة :) -
My only advice for reading Poe's The Raven is that you try to read it out loud as if you were performing it in front of a crowd, only then you can grab the true mastery of what this poem does on a phonetic side as well! This poem gave me chills; I will treasure it from here on out for the rest of my life.
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.
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.
