I grew mad; the crowning fancies, Black weeds they――not blooming pansies―― Made me think the bird a spirit. Bird, I cried, be bird no more; Take a shape――be man, be devil, Be a snake; rise in thy revel! From thy banquet rise――be human! I have seen thee oft before; Thou art a bird, but something more. Tapping, tapping, striking deeper, Rousing pain, my body’s keeper, Thou hast oft ere while sought entrance At the heart’s great palace door; Leave me, leave me, gloomy demon, Fiend or spirit, most inhuman; Strike me through, but first unveiling, Let me scan thee o’er and o’er―― Thou art a bird, but something more. Still with sable pinions flapping, The great Raven tapping, tapping, Struck into my breast his talons. Vast his wings outspread, and o’er All my nature cast a pallor, But I strove with dying valor, With the poinard of repulsion, Striking through the form it wore―― Of a bird, and something more. Oh! thou huge, infernal Raven, Image that Hell’s King hath graven, Image growing more gigantic, Nursed beyond the Stygian shore, Leave me, leave me, I beseech thee, I would not of wrong, impeach thee; I cried madly, then earth opened, With a brazen earthquake roar. Downward, downward, circling, speeding, Cries of anguish still unheeding, Striking through me with his talons, Still the Raven shape he bore; Unto Erebus we drifted, His huge wings by thunder lifted, Beat ’gainst drifts of white-flamed lightning, Sprinkled red with human gore―― ’Twas a bird, but demon more. I’m no bird, “an angel brother,” A bright spirit and none other, I have waited, blissful tended Thee for thirty years and more. In thy wild, illusive madness; In thy blight, disease and sadness, I have sounded, tapping, tapping At thy spirit’s Eden door, Not a bird, but angel more. In my Palmyrenian splendor, In Zenobian regnance tender, More than Roman thought Aurelian, Were the kingly name I bore; I have left my angel-palace, Dropping in thy sorrow’s chalice Consolation; oh! ’twas blessed, Sweet thy pillow to bend o’er, Not a bird, love’s angel more. Shining down with light Elysian Through the pearly gate of vision, On thy tranced soul lighted fancy, When across thy chamber-floor, Fell the spirit moonlight laden, Laden with soft dews from Aidenn, Shaken downward, still Nepenthe Drunk by dreaming bards of yore. Eden is life’s mocking fever, Where through citron groves for ever Blow the spice winds, and the love-birds Tell their raptures o’er and o’er, From earth’s hell by Afrits haunted, From its evil disenchanted, I have borne thee, gaze upon me, Didst thou see me ne’er before?