The Raven

By Edgar Allan Poe

“The Raven” is Edgar Allan Poe’s 1845 narrative poem about a grieving young man who is visited at midnight by a raven that can say only one word, “Nevermore.” Over 18 stanzas and 108 lines, his questions about his lost love, Lenore, turn the bird’s single answer into a sentence of despair. It made Poe famous overnight and is still the best-known poem in American literature.

Our reading is that the real horror is not supernatural. The raven is a bird with one learned word, and the narrator knows it. What destroys him is the questions he chooses to ask, so the poem becomes a study of how grief, left alone with itself, turns into self-torture.

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Summary · The Poem · Background · Analysis and Themes · Form and Technique · Notable Lines · Themes · FAQ
Glossary · In Popular Culture · Related Poems

Summary

On a bleak December midnight, a grief-stricken young man sits alone over old books, trying and failing to forget his lost love, Lenore. A tapping at the door, and then at the window, ends with a raven stepping in and perching on a bust of Pallas, the goddess of wisdom, above his door. Half amused, he asks the bird its name, and it answers, “Nevermore.”

He tells himself the bird has learned that one word from some unhappy former owner. But he begins to ask it questions: whether he will find relief, whether there is any cure for his sorrow, and whether he will ever hold Lenore again in heaven. Each time, the answer is “Nevermore.” He orders it to leave, and it does not. In the last stanza, the raven still sits above the door, and the narrator says his soul will be lifted from its shadow “nevermore.”

The Poem

The text below follows The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, volume 2 (Redfield, 1859), which prints Poe’s revised text, including his spelling “visiter.”

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 visiter,” 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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visiter 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.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping something 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.”

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.

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.”

Much I marvelled 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.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on that 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.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

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.’”

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 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 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 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 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, “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 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 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!”
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!

Background

Edgar Allan Poe (1809–1849) was the American master of the gothic tale. “The Raven” first appeared on January 29, 1845, in the New York Evening Mirror, printed in advance of the February issue of the American Review, where it ran under the pen name “Quarles.” It was an immediate sensation, reprinted and parodied across the country, and it made Poe a household name, though it earned him very little money. Later that year, it became the title poem of The Raven and Other Poems, and Poe kept revising it until the last year of his life.

In 1846, Poe published an essay, “The Philosophy of Composition,” claiming to explain exactly how he built the poem, not in a rush of inspiration but by cold calculation. He said he chose the refrain “Nevermore” for the mournful sound of its long “o” and “r,” picked a raven as a “non-reasoning creature capable of speech,” and made the death of a beautiful woman his subject because it was, in his view, “the most poetical topic in the world.” Whether the essay is sincere or partly a performance is still debated, but it presents the poem as a machine deliberately designed to produce sorrow.

Analysis and Themes

Read quickly, “The Raven” is a spooky story about an ominous talking bird. Read closely, it is more disturbing and more human: a portrait of grief that feeds on itself.

A Bird That Knows One Word

The crucial fact is that the raven can say only one word. The narrator works this out early, and sensibly: the bird must have learned “Nevermore” from “some unhappy master,” and its answer carries “little meaning—little relevancy.” The raven is not an oracle, a demon, or a messenger from the dead. It is a blank surface onto which the narrator projects everything, and whatever horror it delivers, he has written himself. Poe’s essay describes this as “the human thirst for self-torture.”

The Questions He Chooses to Ask

If the answer is always “Nevermore,” everything depends on the questions, and the narrator chooses the ones that will hurt most. He asks whether he will find “nepenthe,” a drug of forgetting, then whether there is “balm in Gilead,” any cure at all, and finally whether he will ever be reunited with Lenore in heaven. He knows what the bird will say. He asks anyway. The refrain never changes, but the questions escalate, so the same flat word lands as a heavier blow each time.

Reason Overthrown

Poe places one quiet symbol at the center of the scene. The raven perches on “a bust of Pallas,” Pallas Athena, the goddess of wisdom. A bird of darkness sits on top of the image of reason and will not be moved, a picture of grief taking up permanent residence in the rational mind. In the final stanza, the last “nevermore” is the narrator’s own, not the bird’s. He has absorbed the refrain and pronounced his own sentence.

Form and Technique

Few poems are as insistently musical as “The Raven,” and the music is the point. Poe writes in trochaic octameter, eight falling beats to a line, a long, drumming measure that pulls the reader forward like a chant. Each six-line stanza rhymes ABCBBB, and every stanza drives toward the same long “or” sound of “Lenore,” “door,” “more,” and “Nevermore.” Heavy internal rhyme (“dreary” and “weary,” “napping” and “tapping”) and alliteration (“weak and weary,” “silken sad uncertain”) make the lines echo within themselves.

The refrain holds it together. At first, stanzas end on the narrator’s own reassuring “nothing more,” which darkens into the raven’s “Nevermore.” The setting is pure gothic, with a midnight chamber, dying embers, purple curtains, and a lamp throwing shadows, and the diction is deliberately old-fashioned (“quoth,” “thee,” “surcease,” “yore”). Poe’s many dashes break the lines into agitated starts and stops, as if the narrator’s mind were fraying as he speaks.

Notable Lines

Three moments mark the hypnotic opening, the climax of self-torment, and the final surrender.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

Lines 1 to 2

One of the most famous openings in poetry. The fairy-tale “Once upon a” turns at once toward dread.

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”

Lines 105 to 106

The narrator begs the bird to leave, and the only answer it can give guarantees that it will stay.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Lines 107 to 108

The final surrender. The last “nevermore” belongs to the narrator, a verdict on his own life.

Themes

Four ideas run through the poem.

Grief and loss. The narrator’s mourning for Lenore is the engine of the whole poem.

Self-torment. He chooses the questions that will hurt him, turning a bird’s single word into a weapon against himself.

Reason and madness. The raven perched on the bust of wisdom shows grief overpowering the rational mind.

Death and the afterlife. The hope of meeting Lenore in heaven is the last question, and the cruelest answer.

Frequently Asked Questions

These are the questions readers most often ask about “The Raven”.

What is “The Raven” about?

It is about a grieving young man who, alone at midnight, is visited by a raven that can say only one word, “Nevermore.” He asks it questions about his lost love, Lenore, and its single answer drives him into despair. The poem is a study of grief turning into self-torment.

What does the raven symbolize in the poem?

The raven stands for grief, memory, and the despair that will not leave. Poe called it “emblematical of Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance,” and by the end, its shadow on the floor has become the permanent shape of the narrator’s sorrow.

What does “Nevermore” mean in “The Raven”?

It means “never again.” The raven repeats it by rote, but the narrator hears it as an answer to his questions: he will never forget Lenore, never find relief, and never see her again, even in heaven.

What type of poem is “The Raven”?

It is a narrative poem of 18 six-line stanzas, written in trochaic octameter with heavy internal rhyme and a refrain. Its gothic setting and supernatural visitor make it the classic American gothic poem.

When was “The Raven” published?

Edgar Allan Poe’s poem was first printed on January 29, 1845, in the New York Evening Mirror, as an advance of its appearance in the February issue of the American Review. It made Poe famous almost at once and became the title poem of The Raven and Other Poems later that year.

Glossary

A few old-fashioned words and references are worth knowing.

• visiter (line 5): Poe’s spelling of “visitor.”
• surcease (line 10): An end or relief. “Surcease of sorrow” means release from grief.
• obeisance (line 39): A bow or gesture of respect.
• mien (line 40): Manner or bearing.
• Pallas (line 41): Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom.
• craven (line 45): A coward.
• Plutonian (line 47): Belonging to the underworld, from Pluto, the Roman god of the dead.
• Quoth (line 48): Said.
• censer (line 79): A container for burning incense, swung during religious services.
• nepenthe (line 82): In Greek myth, a drug that brings forgetfulness of sorrow.
• balm in Gilead (line 89): A healing ointment from the Bible (Jeremiah 8:22), a byword for comfort or cure.
• Aidenn (line 93): Poe’s spelling of Eden, meaning heaven.

In Popular Culture

Poe’s poem has spread far beyond the page.

The first “Treehouse of Horror” Halloween episode of The Simpsons (1990) ends with a near line-for-line version of the poem, narrated by James Earl Jones, with Homer as the narrator and Bart as the raven.

Baltimore’s NFL team, founded in 1996, was named the Ravens after a fan vote, in honor of Poe, who died and is buried in the city. Its costumed mascot is named Poe.

Related Poems

If this poem grips you, these share its mood of grief, haunting, and lost love.

• Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe: Poe’s last complete poem, about a lover who will not let his dead beloved go.
• Ulalume by Edgar Allan Poe: Another midnight journey that ends at the tomb of a lost love, in October.
• A Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe: A short lyric of loss in which everything slips away like sand.
• La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats: A haunting ballad of a man left “alone and palely loitering” after losing an otherworldly love.