in the last place an answer――that query in reply to which this word “Nevermore” should involve the utmost conceivable amount of sorrow and despair. Here, then, the poem may be said to have its beginning――at the end, where all works of art should begin――for it was here, at this point of my preconsiderations, that I first put pen to paper in the composition of the stanza:―― “Prophet,” said I, “thing of evil! prophet still if bird or devil! By that heaven that bends above us――by the 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,” * * * * * [Illustration] THE RAVEN. 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 some one 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 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 “’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 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, “Lenore!” This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” Merely this, and nothing more.