The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe

the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

She~ shall press, ah, nevermore!

But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,

Till the dirges of his Hope the melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore.’”

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

” Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

Then the bird said, “Nevermore.”

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,