The Raven

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never—nevermore.'"

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if its soul in that one word he did outpour

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,