The Raven’s reply
It was a dreary moonless night when the Goddess bid me take
a message to his door.
I pondered once, but nothing more. Twas a missive of the
Goddess.
“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. “’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping
at my chamber door. Only this and nothing more.”
I rapped harder on the chamber door. No reply I received,
what could this man be thinking. Never keep a messenger of the Goddess waiting.
“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.”
I flew around to his window peeking in the pane looking at
the dying embers of his ill kept fire place. He looked to be in mourning on
this cold December eve. His face sunken in darkness his eyes disappeared into
the shadows of his gaunt and hollow cheeks.
“ 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.”
Stop your loathing, stop your entreating, and answer this
chamber door. Tis cold and my wings are covering with frost as you shake and
quiver from the fear that you endeavor to invent upon your soul.
“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.”
You could have responded when I was there. Now I am at your
shutters. You were not napping, when I was rapping. I see you pondering, and
creeping through your house, gently weeping. Why does your heart break on this
dreary winter night? What set these facts in action?
“Deep into that
darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming
dreams no mortal 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.”
Lenore is no more you poor maddened soul. I’ve come to tell
you and nothing more. Now just come over to the window and let in this poor
cold fellow.
“Back into the chamber
turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat
louder than before. “Surely,” said I,
“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!”
Tis not the wind, and my patience is wearing thin. This long
night I have been rapping while your mind is in repose. No wind, my mortal
friend. Just open up this portal and let me deliver this short repose.
“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.”
Finally you let me in. Now you can wait while I warm my
feathers. I will leave you ponder what message I have. Just perch here on your
bust of Pallas above the chamber door. I will perch now and nothing more.
“Then this ebony bird
beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the
countenance it wore, “Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art
sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and
ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—Tell me what thy lordly name is
on the Night’s Plutonian shore! “Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Nevermore shall you wonder about your glorious Lenore. For
the Goddess, she has sent me answer your query. That is all and nothing more.
Stop your quivering and shaking.
“Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living
human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—Bird
or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.”
I let out a sigh, not an easy task for one with no lips. My
name is not Nevermore. I’m here to answer your query so may ponder nevermore
over the fate of the lovely Lenore.
“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 farther
then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than
muttered “Other friends have flown before—On the morrow he will leave me, as my
Hopes have flown before.”
Ahh, you cannot understand me. You have lost your speech.
Allow me to assist you this once and nothing more. The spell was simple, the
air fluttered then sparked and died like the embers, casting ghostly shadows on
the floor.
“Then the bird said
“Nevermore.”
You look at me with some doubt reflected in your eye.
“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 ‘Never—nevermore’.”
Your fate is twisted your mind a flutter with doubt, and
dread, and nothing more. Should you have a care to listen, I will deliver my
missive from the Goddess.
“But the Raven still
beguiling all my fancy 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 yore—What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird
of yore Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
Looking into his haunted eyes, I was tempted to play upon
his woes. I refrained and drew a breath ready to tell of the lost Lenore.
“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 I sat divining, with my head at ease
reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But
whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore!”
At this gent I stood staring, pondering my quest. Would he
cease long enough for me to deliver my Mistress’ query or would I linger
forever on this bust and nothing more?
“Then, me thought, the
air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls
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."
Was I doomed to say this word, some spell upon me stood. I
unwillingly uttered, “Nevermore”. Tis not my name and this is not some foul
game. Who or what had bewitched me as I sought to do nere but the Goddess’
bidding.
"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!"
Nay, I dare not say it. Make it stop I implore
“Quoth the Raven,
"Nevermore."
Goddess what is this foul thing that has been cast upon me.
Stop this madness, I implore!
"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 Lenore: Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore!"
Fluttering from the bust to the sill, I tried to ponder what
foul thing was amiss. I was here to deliver a message about the radiant Lenore.
The maiden now in the bosom of my glorious Goddess. Yet from my beak only,
comes.
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."
Back on the bust I flew, renewing my faith in the Goddess.
The time would come.
"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!"
Shaking my head I looked into his face once more. I realized
now that madness had taken him and the Goddess had stilled my speech sparing
his heart from further breaking.
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!
I shall leave you to your madness your never ending sadness.
Great poet who pines for the lovely Lenore. Know this day it won’t be long and
you will be with her evermore.
Out I flew into the night my wings frosting on the way to
the Goddess’ sturdy oaken door. I rapt thrice before it opened and was drawn
into the parlor. She was sitting by the fire her face aglow with understanding.
Landing on her outstretched arm she warmed my ebon feathers
by the warm embers of the hearth. Stroking them with her long slender fingers,
I heard her say, “Good job Jet.”
Please check out all of the other blogs.
Oct. 22
Andrew Brewer
http://www.andrew-brewer.com/my-blog
Oct. 23
Julie Morgan
www.juliemorganbooks.com
Oct. 24
Susan Hanniford Crowley
BLOG ADDY TO BE ANNOUNCED
Oct. 25
Audie Rose
www.audierose.com
Oct. 26
Louisa Bacio
http://louisabacio.blogspot.com
Oct. 27
Monica Corwin
www.monicacorwin.com
Oct. 28
April Riley
thepassionatemystic.blogspot.com
Oct. 29
Candi Fox
http://allthingscandi.blogspot.com/2014/09/welcome-hello-everyone-welcome-to-all.html
Oct. 30
Timothy Deal
http://www.shroudmagazine.com/#!blog/c1gie
Oct. 31
JoLynne Valerie
www.ParaGoddess.com
