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

...

"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 named 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!