Читать книгу Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April 1848 - Various - Страница 6

Leave us not so dark uncertain! lift again the fallen curtain!

Let us once again the mysteries of that haunted room explore —

Hear once more that friend infernal – that grim visiter nocturnal!

Earnestly we long to learn all that befalls that bird of yore:

Oh, then, tell us something more!

Doth his shade thy floor still darken? dost thou still, despairing, hearken

To that deep sepulchral utterance like the oracles of yore?

In the same place is he sitting? Does he give no sign of quitting?

Is he conscious or unwitting when he answers "Nevermore?"

Tell me truly, I implore!

Knows he not the littlenesses of our nature – its distresses?

Knows he never need of slumber, fainting forces to restore?

Stoops he not to eating – drinking? Is he never caught in winking

When his demon eyes are sinking deep into thy bosom's core?

Tell me this, if nothing more!

Is he, after all, so evil? Is it fair to call him "devil?"

Did he not give friendly answer when thy speech friend's meaning bore?

When thy sad tones were revealing all the loneness o'er thee stealing,

Did he not, with fellow-feeling, vow to leave thee nevermore?

Keeps he not that oath he swore?

He, too, may be inly praying – vainly, earnestly essaying

To forget some matchless mate, beloved yet lost for evermore.

He hath donned a suit of mourning, and, all earthly comfort scorning,

Broods alone from night till morning. By thy memories Lenore,

Oh, renounce him nevermore.

Though he be a sable brother, treat him kindly as another!

Ah, perhaps the world has scorned him for that luckless hue he wore,

No such narrow prejudices can he know whom Love possesses —

Whom one spark of Freedom blesses. Do not spurn him from thy door

Lest Love enter nevermore!

Not a bird of evil presage, happily he brings some message

From that much-mourned matchless maiden – from that loved and lost Lenore.

In a pilgrim's garb disguiséd, angels are but seldom prizéd:

Of this fact at length adviséd, were it strange if he forswore

The false world for evermore?

Oh, thou ill-starred midnight ranger! dark, forlorn, mysterious stranger!

Wildered wanderer from the eternal lightning on Time's stormy shore!

Tell us of that world of wonder – of that famed unfading "Yonder!"

Rend – oh rend the veil asunder! Let our doubts and fears be o'er!

Doth he answer – "Nevermore?"