A summary of a classic poem

'Why is a raven like a writing desk?' This was the riddle posed by the Mad Hatter in Lewis Carroll'southward 1865 book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Probably the nearly famous solution proposed to this riddle (for the riddle has never been answered with a definitive solution) is: 'Considering Poe wrote on both.' 'The Raven' is undoubtedly Edgar Allan Poe'southward most famous poem. It was first published under Poe'south proper noun in January 1845, and has been popular ever since. It is the but literary work to inspire the name of a sporting team (the American Football game team the Baltimore Ravens). According to Poe himself, in a later work of literary assay, if he hadn't had a alter of middle we might well be reading a poem called, not 'The Raven', but 'The Parrot'. The poem is so famous, so widely anthologised, that perchance a closer analysis of its features and language is necessary to strip abroad some of our preconceptions nigh information technology. First, here is the poem.

The Raven

In one case 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 ane gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
''Tis some company,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and goose egg more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember information technology was in the dour 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 proper noun Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt earlier;
Then that now, to still the chirapsia 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 information technology is and nothing more than.'

Before long my soul grew stronger; hesitating and then no longer,
'Sir,' said I, 'or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and and then gently y'all came rapping,
And so faintly you lot came tapping, borer at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you'—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and zero more than.

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 simply word there spoken was the whispered discussion, 'Lenore?'
This I whispered, and an repeat murmured dorsum the word, 'Lenore!'—
Simply this and nothing more than.

Dorsum into the chamber turning, all my soul inside me burning,
Soon once again I heard a borer 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—
Permit my heart be nonetheless a moment and this mystery explore;—
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open hither I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Non the to the lowest degree obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched higher up my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sabbatum, and nothing more than.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into grin,
Past the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
'Though thy crest exist shorn and shaven, one thousand,' I said, 'art certain no craven,
Ghastly grim and aboriginal Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Dark'southward Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so obviously,
Though its answer trivial meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot assist like-minded that no living homo being
Always nevertheless was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or fauna upon the sculptured bust above his bedroom door,
With such proper name every bit 'Nevermore.'

Merely the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bosom, spoke only
That one discussion, equally if his soul in that ane word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—non a feather and then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered 'Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he volition leave me, equally my Hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said 'Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness cleaved by answer so aptly spoken,
'Doubtless,' said I, 'what information technology 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".'

But the Raven still fallacious all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
So, 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.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose peppery optics now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more than I sat divining, with my caput at ease reclining
On the cushion'southward velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-calorie-free gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

And so, methought, 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.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'matter of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee hither ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this abode by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is at that place balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'

'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil!—prophet even so, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends to a higher place us—past that God nosotros both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, inside the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels proper noun Lenore—
Clasp 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 dorsum into the storm and the Night'due south Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Get out my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bosom in a higher place my door!
Accept thy neb from out my heart, and take thy grade from off my door!'
Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.'

And the Raven, never flitting, even so is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas only above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-lite 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!

Commencement, a brief summary of 'The Raven'. The unnamed narrator (nosotros tin can call him a narrator as 'The Raven' just about qualifies as a narrative poem) sits up late one December night, mourning the loss of his beloved, Lenore, when a raven appears at the window and speaks the repeated single give-and-take, 'Nevermore'. The narrator starts to view the raven as some sort of prophet. Throughout the verse form, the narrator sits and ponders the meaning of the raven, and asks information technology questions, such equally whether he will exist run across his beloved Lenore once more in heaven, simply the bird just responds enigmatically each fourth dimension, 'Nevermore'. In the end, the narrator demands that the raven leave him solitary, simply it replies again, 'Nevermore.'

Poe credited two chief literary works in the genesis and limerick of 'The Raven': he got the idea of the raven from Charles Dickens'southward novel Barnaby Rudge (whose title graphic symbol has a pet raven, Grip – the same name of Dickens's own pet raven in real life), and he borrowed the metre for his poem from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem 'Lady Geraldine's Courting'. Here is a stanza from Barrett Browning's poem:

Honey my friend and beau-student, I would lean my spirit o'er y'all:
Down the purple of this sleeping accommodation, tears should scarcely run at will:
I am humbled who was humble! Friend,—I bow my caput before you!
You should lead me to my peasants!—but their faces are as well still.

The metre of this poem, and of Poe's 'The Raven', is relatively rare in English-language verse: trochaic octameter. (Trochaic because the stress falls on the first syllable in each pes, and then 'Dearest my friend and fellow student', and 'Once upon a midnighttime dreary'; octameter because there are eight anxiety in each line, and then 'Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary'. But Poe added something to this rhythm, by including internal rhyme in each stanza of 'The Raven':

One time 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 at that place came a borer,
As of some i gently rapping, rapping at my sleeping accommodation door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "borer at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more."

And so although each stanza of 'The Raven' is rhymed abcbbb, with the 'ore' rhyme being constant throughout the verse form, the a and c rhymes are complemented by a mid-line rhyme: dreary/weary, napping/borer. This makes 'The Raven' the perfect poem for reading aloud on a dark, wintry night – but information technology too arguably underscores the poem's focus on speech, and on the talking raven that provides the refrain, and last word, of many of the poem'southward stanzas. 'Nevermore' rhymes with the dead beloved of the poem's narrator, Lenore, but information technology is also an inherently 'poetic' turn of phrase to end a poem (or successive stanzas of a poem): compare Hardy's 'never again', or Edward Thomas's, or Tennyson's 'the days that are no more than'. The word 'Nevermore', like 'never again' and 'no more', evokes finality, something gone from united states of america that will not be regained: time, our youth, a lost lover. Whether Lenore in 'The Raven' is the narrator's expressionless beloved – perhaps even his married woman – is not spelt out in the poem, leaving us not so much to analyse equally to speculate upon that point. Merely the broader signal remains: a door has closed that will non be opened over again.

Equally we mentioned at the beginning of this analysis, at that place is reason to believe that Poe originally planned to accept a parrot, rather than a raven, utter the refrain 'Nevermore' in the poem. In his 'Philosophy of Limerick', he wrote that in his mind in that location 'arose the idea of a non-reasoning animal capable of oral communication; and very naturally, a parrot, in the first instance, suggested itself, but was superseded forthwith past a Raven, as equally capable of speech communication.' Whether Poe was merely retrospectively having united states of america on, or whether he was being genuine here, the parrot does seem the natural choice for a bird capable of mimicking man speech, and Poe implies that he before long dropped the idea of writing a poem called 'The Parrot'. Ravens are closely associated with omens and with the dead: it had to be 'The Raven'.

Image: John Tenniel, 'The Raven', public domain.