The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe


First Published in 1845


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."


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 forevermore.


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 the 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.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something 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 the 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 that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
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 sad soul 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."


Thus 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!


Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls 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, O 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 lamplight 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!

0499 24 66 19
Ik zou zeggen, gebruik het?

Edit:
Ik zou het heel graag hebben dat je het gebruikte vanavond.
Ja, jij daar je weet maar al te goed wie ik bedoel. :p

I really think this is a nice image.
All hail however who made it.
*Guesses: Silvie?*

*Sulk

If you read this then that is must have been that I, [Kayne], was in either a bitchy mood or just made a bitch comment.

Don't get offended.
That is muchos safer for both your and my health.

this guy who worked out from Genesis that the exact time of the Earth's creation was 9:23 AM on October 4, 4004 BC.

So all we have to do is make sure there are dinosaurs.

2005-03-03 [pinefairy]: o gosh 19 thats not old...i bet she is like 11 or something

Inspirid upon: <dairy:444494>

Answer these 10 questions using only song titles from the band: Muse


1. Are you a male or a female: jimmy kane
2. Describe yourself: thoughts of a dying atheist
3. How do some people feel about you: natural disaster
4. How do you feel about yourself: pink ego box
5. Describe your family: fury
6. Where would you rather be: map of your head
7. Describe what you want to be: new born
8. Describe how you live: agitated
9. Describe how you love: can’t take my eyes off you ; unintended ; endlessly ; ...
.10. Describe what you hate: you

More
11. Describe your life's goal: escape
12. Describe your feeling about life: time is running out
13. Describe your friends: butterflies & hurricanes
14.How do you live? ruled by secrecy
15. What is your message to humanity? apocalypse please

45950) Are you an Elfwood member?

Number of voters: 1413

a) Yes.
Number of votes: 610 (43%)
b) I have been.
Number of votes: 51 (4%)
c) I will be soon, I hope.
Number of votes: 113 (8%)
d) No, but I often look at Elfwood.
Number of votes: 252 (18%)
e) No.
Number of votes: 218 (15%)
f) What is Elfwood?
Number of votes: 169 (12%)

From love is cool

 

Article 1: Statement of Love: The Kiss

"zeggen dat het bestaan van god niet te bewijzen valt is als klagen dat de wielrenners in de tour dit jaar maar weinig doelpunten maakten. zeggen dat we het bestaan van god wel kunnen bewijzen is als beweren dat we een manier hebben om die doelpunten te tellen."

We don't have to know how to pronouce a country.
We have guided misiles to destroy it, so why bother?

~~American~~

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v673/iippo/battle.gif


Danke iippo.

Als ik morgen zou doodvallen zou het me niets kunnen schelen.
Ik leef omdat ik geen zin heb in zelfmoord maar mocht ik sterven wil ik niet dat men verdrietig voor mij is.
Wees verdrietig omdat je mij mist zoveel je wilt.
Dat zou ik niet kunnen tegenhouden.
Maar wees niet verdrietig omdat ik dood ben, omdat ik zoveel kansen gemist heb.
Elke mens is vervangbaar - dus ook ik.
Echt - als ik doodviel zou het me niet kunnen schelen.
Dood = dood.
Ik zou het zelfs leuk vinden.
Ik zou gemist worden, voor zowat de eerste keer.
Natuurlijk laat ik dan ook mensen achter die verdrietig zijn, ik zal hun ook missen.
Zolang ze maar niet verdrietig zijn omdat ik "een gemiste kans had/heb of zoiets".
Mocht ik morgen omver gereden worden bedank dan die persoon.
Rust is een mooie zaak.
Ik hou wel van het leven maar zou gerust zonder kunnen.
Rust.

Sterven is niet het eindstation.
Het leven wel.

Polls
<poll:17406> Why does humanity exists?
<poll:19957> What if ...
<poll:24319> Looks of [Edana] (just vote a - damit)
<poll:27959> Crap
<poll:30980> Do you hate fanclubs?
<poll:35947> My new name (alternative
<poll:37716> Titel for my book
<poll:38148> Which Dictator is the best?

Wiki's
<Are you a goth? Everyone is a goth!!
<The Deus Awards Go and fucking nominate yourself.
<For the USA Haha - Usa
<For the UK Haha - Uk

Descriptions
<[iippo]
<[windowframe]
<[deus-ex-machina]
<[Hedda]
<[Elftron]
<[Gosu]

w00y.

w00y