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 "Nevermore, 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 yoreWhat this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of

yore

Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This 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 J sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen

censer

Swung by angels whose faint 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, oh 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 LenoreClasp 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 iny 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!

DO YOU EVER THINK OF ME?

Do you ever think of me, love,
Do you ever think of me?
When I'm away from thee, love,
With my bark upon the sea?
My thoughts are ever turning,
On thee, where'er I roam,
And my heart is ever yearning,
For the quiet scenes of home.

When sailing on the billow,

Do you think I must forget;
The streamlet and the willow,
And the bower where we met?

No; I fancy thou art near me,

When the gales are murmuring by,
When the waves alone can hear me,
And 'tis but the zephyr's sigh.

OH! TURN THOSE DEAR, DEAR EYES AWAY.

OH! turn those dear, dear eyes away,
My cheek with love is blushing!
And though a smile may o'er it play,
My eyes with tears are gushing.

Oh! look not in mine eyes, love,
They tell a tale too true;
See not my blushes rise, love,
Nor listen to my sighs, love,
For blushes, sighs, and eyes, love,
All speak, all speak for you.

TOO WELL I LOVE THEE.

Go, lover, false! go man, unkind!

My heart may break, but can't forget thee;
E'en though remembrance probes my mind,
And bids me rue the day I met thee!
Go where you will, o'er land or seas,
Where sun-beams burn, or waters freeze,
Yes, traitor! yes, too well I love thee!

Go, wily fiend! with serpent tongue,

And tell how well that tongue deceived me;
What vows you made, what praises sung,
And make thy boast how I believed thee!

Go. perjured man! with manless heart,
But let no woman's eye behold thee;
Wound no fond breast with falsehood's dart,
Nor whisper tales like those you told me!

FAREWELL! in despair

I escape from thy wiles,
Thy frowns I can bear,
And even thy smiles;
Take back that dear token,
That blessed me before,.
The heart you have broken
Can prize it no more.

Now vain were thy favour,
Thy pity more vain,
I am lost, and for ever,
To pleasure, to pain.
Words sweetly spoken
Deceived me before,

But the heart you have broken

Can trust it no more.

IT IS NOT FOR THINE EYE OF BLUE,

Ir is not for thine eye of blue,

Nor for thy dark and glossy hair,.

Nor for thy cheek of rosy hue,

Nor for thy lovely bosom fair

That I do love thee! for to me,

There are far brighter charms in thee!

But it is for thy gentle mind,

Thy placid and expansive brow,

Imagination, mild and kind,

Which burns with clear, and fervid glow,

That I do love thee; and I see,.

A thousand matchless charms in thee !

I SHALL NEVER SEE HER MORE.

AND has she then fail'd in her truth
The beautiful maid I adore;
Shall I never again hear her voice,
Nor see her lov'd form any more?
No, no, no, I shall never see her more.

Ah, Selima, cruel you prove!

Yet sure my hard lot you'll bewail;
I could not presume you would love,
Yet pity I hop'd would prevail.

And since hatred alone I inspire,

Life henceforth is not worth my care,

Death now is my only desire,

I give myself up to despair.

SHE THINKS OF THE PROMISE SHE MADE HIM
AT PARTING.

SHE thinks of the promise she made him at parting,
And suitors strive vainly her hand to obtain,
For the vows she has uttered shall never be broken,
The maiden will true to her lover remain.

She sighs not for title, for riches or spendour,
Bright bubbles that melt in a moment away,

Her hand she bestows where her heart can go with it,
The bosom's affection will never decay.

'Tis this that must shine in a season of sorrow,
And last when the hey-day of passion is o'er,
When beauty shall fade like the dew of the morning,
And title and gold raise ambition no more.

TIME CANNOT CHANGE MY LOVE.

TIME cannot change my love for thee;
For when, in age, thy step I hear,
Though feeble; yet, my love, 'twill be
Sweet music to thy Laura's ear!
When those love-darting eyes shall fade,
That now thy inmost thoughts express,
And silver those bright ringlets shade,
Ah! think not that I love thee less.

And when, at last, we're doomed to lay
Mid kindred dust, our aged heads,
O'er us shall cheering sunbeams play,
And one tree shade our narrow beds;