The Raven Libretto
Edgar Allan Poe
CURRENT NARRATOR:
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. “
CURRENT & PAST NARRATOR:
“'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this, and nothing more.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
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,
CURRENT & PAST NARRATOR:
“'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is, and nothing more.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
PAST NARRATOR:
“Sir,”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
said I,
PAST NARRATOR:
“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”—
CURRENT NARRATOR:
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 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,
PAST NARRATOR:
“Lenore!”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
RAVEN:
“Lenore!”—
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning,
PAST NARRATOR:
all my soul within me burning,
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
PAST NARRATOR:
“Surely,”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
said I,
PAST NARRATOR:
“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.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Open here I flung the shutter, when,
PAST NARRATOR:
with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
CURRENT NARRATOR:
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.
PAST NARRATOR:
Ghastly grim and ancient raven
CURRENT NARRATOR:
I said,
PAST NARRATOR:
Though thy crest be shorn and shaven,
Thou art sure no dreadful craven
Thou art sure no dreadful craven
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Quoth the Raven,
RAVEN:
“Nevermore.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
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 further then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered,
PAST NARRATOR:
“other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Then the bird said,
RAVEN:
“Nevermore.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
PAST NARRATOR:
“Prophet! 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.”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Quoth the Raven,
RAVEN:
“Nevermore.”
PAST NARRATOR:
“Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!”
“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!”
CURRENT NARRATOR:
Quoth the Raven,
RAVEN:
“Nevermore.”
“Nevermore.”
CURRENT & PAST NARRATOR & RAVEN:
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!