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,