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Edgar Allan Poe wrote about a raven...
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Artigenda

Edgar Allan Poe wrote about a raven…

‘The Raven’ is an impressive poem written by Edgar Allan Poe in 1845 about madness and despair. Why is this poem still so popular?
Face it, everything written by Poe is still very popular. ‘The Raven’ is no exception. It’s a masterpiece when it comes to what is described as Gothic Literature. In a way, it’s modern Gothic Literature. When it was written, it wasn’t.
The poem appeared in the latter days of what we know as the Romantic period. That is different from the Gothic period. There is, however, a certain appeal of the culture known as the movements known as Gothic and equivalent cultures.
This has to do with the writing style and what it does to the reader. The mysticism, the hint of mystery. It touches people, even after all this time. Apart from what that writing style does to the reader, there is something else. In his work, Poe also manages to draw attention to other issues that people can relate to. The pain of loss.
The pain of loss is universal and not tied to a particular time. How people deal with it is. In Poe’s time, it was very different. Different than it is now. Yet common ground can be discerned. That makes Poe’s work still relevant.

Nevermore

The narrator of the poem, who we do not know by name, is visited by a raven with the name Nevermore. The narrator has suffered the loss of his love. Her name was Lenore. The name Nevermore is assumed because that’s all the raven says. It’s the only word it speaks.
The poem begins when the narrator is alone in his room, grieving for his loss on a dreary December night. He is trying to distract himself from his sorrow by reading old books. Suddenly, he hears a tapping sound at his door, which he initially dismisses as a visitor. When he opens the door, he finds nothing but darkness. The tapping continues, this time at his window, and when he opens it, a raven flies in and perches on a bust of Pallas Athena above his door.

Themes

This poem includes several themes.
Grief and Loss: The central theme of “The Raven” is the narrator’s profound grief over Lenore’s death. The raven’s repeated utterance of “Nevermore” serves as a constant reminder that Lenore is gone forever, and there is no hope of reunion in the afterlife. This relentless reminder drives the narrator deeper into despair.
Madness: As the poem progresses, the narrator’s interactions with the raven become increasingly frantic and irrational. He projects his own feelings of hopelessness onto the bird, interpreting its repetitive “Nevermore” as a prophetic message. This descent into madness is a key element of the poem, highlighting the thin line between sanity and insanity.
The Supernatural: The raven itself is a symbol of the supernatural. Its sudden appearance and ability to speak suggest that it is more than just a bird. The raven’s presence blurs the line between reality and the supernatural, adding to the poem’s eerie atmosphere.

Literary Devices

Symbolism: The raven is a powerful symbol in the poem. Traditionally associated with death and the afterlife, the raven’s black plumage and ominous presence reinforce the themes of mourning and loss. The bust of Pallas Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, symbolizes the narrator’s futile search for knowledge and understanding in the face of his grief.
Alliteration and Rhyme: Poe’s use of alliteration and internal rhyme creates a musical quality that enhances the poem’s haunting atmosphere. Phrases like “weak and weary” and “silken, sad, uncertain rustling” contribute to the poem’s rhythmic and hypnotic effect.
Imagery: Poe’s vivid imagery paints a picture of the narrator’s dark and gloomy chamber, reflecting his inner turmoil. The repeated references to darkness, shadows, and the cold December night create a sense of isolation and despair.

Structure and form

“The Raven” is composed of 18 six-line stanzas, with a consistent meter and rhyme scheme (ABCBBB). The repetitive structure mirrors the narrator’s obsessive thoughts and the inescapable nature of his grief. The refrain “Nevermore” at the end of each stanza reinforces the poem’s themes and adds to its rhythmic quality.

Timeless work

“The Raven” remains a timeless work masterpiece, resonating with readers through its exploration of universal themes of grief and loss. Poe’s masterful use of symbolism, literary devices, and structure creates a haunting and memorable poem that continues to captivate audiences.
The Raven

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 visitor,” 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 visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor 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 mortal 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 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—
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 the 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 fancy 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!

Edgar Allan Poe

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