Difference between revisions of "Raven"

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;"The Raven", Edgar Allen Poe (1845), revisited by Lou Reed (2003)
 
;"The Raven", Edgar Allen Poe (1845), revisited by Lou Reed (2003)
 
:<html5media>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQdxf7O8n1s</html5media>
 
:<html5media>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQdxf7O8n1s</html5media>
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[[File:Dore_The_Raven_1884-19.jpg|thumb|right|Gustav Doré, 1884.]]
 
Once upon a midnight dreary  / as 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 someone gently rapping / rapping at my chamber door / "'Tis some visitor", I muttered. / "tapping at my chamber door / only this and nothing more".
 
Once upon a midnight dreary  / as 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 someone gently rapping / rapping at my chamber door / "'Tis some visitor", I muttered. / "tapping at my chamber door / only this and nothing more".
 +
  
 
Muttering I got up weakly / always have had trouble sleeping / stumbling upright my mind racing / furtive thoughts flowing once more / I there, hoping for some sunrise. / "Happiness would be a surprise; / loneliness no longer a prize. / Rapping at my chamber door, / seeking out the clever bore / lost in dreams forever more / only this and nothing more".
 
Muttering I got up weakly / always have had trouble sleeping / stumbling upright my mind racing / furtive thoughts flowing once more / I there, hoping for some sunrise. / "Happiness would be a surprise; / loneliness no longer a prize. / Rapping at my chamber door, / seeking out the clever bore / lost in dreams forever more / only this and nothing more".
 +
  
 
Hovering my pulse was racing / stale tobacco my lips tasting  / Scotch sitting upon my basin / remnants of the night before. / Came again / infernal tapping on the door / in my mind jabbing, / "Is it in or outside rapping,  / calling out to me once more / the fit and the fury of Lenore, / nameless here forever more?
 
Hovering my pulse was racing / stale tobacco my lips tasting  / Scotch sitting upon my basin / remnants of the night before. / Came again / infernal tapping on the door / in my mind jabbing, / "Is it in or outside rapping,  / calling out to me once more / the fit and the fury of Lenore, / nameless here forever more?
 +
  
 
And the silken sad uncertain / rustling of the purple curtain / thrilled me, filled me / with fantastic terrors never felt before / so that now, O Wind!, stop breathing / hoping yet to calm my breathing / "Tis some visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door, / some lost visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door. / This is it, and nothing more."
 
And the silken sad uncertain / rustling of the purple curtain / thrilled me, filled me / with fantastic terrors never felt before / so that now, O Wind!, stop breathing / hoping yet to calm my breathing / "Tis some visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door, / some lost visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door. / This is it, and nothing more."
  
Deep into the darkness peering, / long I stood there / wondering, fearing, / doubting, dreaming fantasies / no mortal dared to dream before. / But the silence was unbroken, / and the stillness gave no token / and the only word there spoken  / was the whispered name, "Lenore?". / This I thought / and out loud whispered from my lips. / The foul name festered, / echoing itself, / merely this, and nothing more.
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 +
Deep into the darkness peering, / long I stood there / wondering, fearing, / doubting, dreaming fantasies / no mortal dared to dream before. / But the silence was unbroken, / and the stillness gave no token / and the only word there spoken  / was the whispered name, "[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lenore_(ballad) Lenore]?". / This I thought / and out loud whispered from my lips. / The foul name festered, / echoing itself, / merely this, and nothing more.
 +
 
  
 
Back into my chamber turning,  / every nerve within me burning / when once again I heard a tapping  / somewhat louder than before / "Surely", said I  / "surely that is something at my iron staircase." / "Open the door to see what (the) threat is / Open the window, free the shutters. / Let us this mystery explore. / Oh bursting heart be still this once. / Let's this mystery explore. / It's the wind, it's the wind  / and nothing more."
 
Back into my chamber turning,  / every nerve within me burning / when once again I heard a tapping  / somewhat louder than before / "Surely", said I  / "surely that is something at my iron staircase." / "Open the door to see what (the) threat is / Open the window, free the shutters. / Let us this mystery explore. / Oh bursting heart be still this once. / Let's this mystery explore. / It's the wind, it's the wind  / and nothing more."
  
Just one epithet I muttered, as inside / I gagged and shuddered, / when with manly flirt and flutter / in there flew a stately raven, / sleek and ravenous as any foe, / not the least obeisance made he / not a minutes gesture towards me / of recognition or politeness, / but perched above my chamber door / this foul and salivating visage, / insinuating with its knowledge, / perched above my chamber door / Silent sat and staring:  / nothing more.
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[[File:Baltimore_Ravens_Super_Bowl_XXXV_Ring.jpg|thumb|left|Super Bowl XXXV ring (Baltimore Ravens)]]
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Just one epithet I muttered, as inside / I gagged and shuddered, / when with manly flirt and flutter / in there flew a stately raven, / sleek and ravenous as any foe, / not the least obeisance made he / not a minutes gesture towards me / of recognition or politeness, / but perched above my chamber door / this foul and salivating visage, / insinuating with its knowledge, / perched above my chamber door, / silent sat and staring:  / nothing more.
 +
 
 +
 
 +
Askance, askew, / the self-said fancy smiles at you. I swear  / at this savage vicious countenance it wears. / "Though you show here shorn and shaven, / I admit myself forlorn and craven, / Ghastly grim and ancient Raven / wandering from the opiate shores / tell me what thy lordly name is, / that you are not nightmare sewage, / some dire powder drink or inhalation / framed from flames of downtown lore."
  
Askance, askew, / The self's sad fancy smiles at you I swear  / at this savage vicious countenance it wears. / "Though you show here shorn and shaven, / I admit myself forlorn and craven, / Ghastly grim and ancient Raven / wandering from the opiate shores / tell me what thy lordly name is, / that you are not nightmare sewage, / some dire powder drink or inhalation / framed from flames of downtown lore."  
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Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"  
  
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
 
  
And the raven, sitting lonely, / staring sickly at my male sex only. / That one word as if his soul / and in that one word / he did outpour, "pathetic." / "Nothing fa(r)ther" then he uttered / Not a feather then he fluttered / till finally 'twas I that muttered  / as I stared dully at the floor. / "Other friends have flown and left me, / Flown as each and every hope has flown before / and as you no doubt will, before tomorrow."  
+
And the raven, sitting lonely, / staring sickly at my male sex only. / That one word as if his soul / and in that one word / he did outpour, "pathetic." / "Nothing fa(r)ther" then he uttered / Not a feather then he fluttered / till finally 'twas I that muttered  / as I stared dully at the floor. / "Other friends have flown and left me, / Flown as each and every hope has flown before / and as you no doubt will, 'fore the  'morrow."  
  
 
But the bird said, "Nevermore!"
 
But the bird said, "Nevermore!"
  
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[[File:Corvus_corax_(NPS).jpg|thumb|left|Where's the tempest?]]
 
But then I felt the air grow denser / perfumed from some unseen incense / as though accepting angelic intrusion / when in fact I felt collusion / before the guise of false memories. / Respite! Respite!  / Through the haze of cocaine's glory / I smoke and smoke the blue vial's glory / to forget at once the base Lenore.
 
But then I felt the air grow denser / perfumed from some unseen incense / as though accepting angelic intrusion / when in fact I felt collusion / before the guise of false memories. / Respite! Respite!  / Through the haze of cocaine's glory / I smoke and smoke the blue vial's glory / to forget at once the base Lenore.
  
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore".
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore".
 +
  
 
"Prophet", said I, "thing of evil, / Prophet still, if a bird or devil / by that heaven that bends above us / by that God we both ignore / tell this soul with sorrow laden / willful and destructive intent / how had lapsed a pure  / heart lady to the greediest of needs? / Sweaty, arrogant, dickless liar / who has ascribed to nothing higher / than a jab from a prick to a needle / straight to betrayal and disgrace / the conscience showing not a trace?"
 
"Prophet", said I, "thing of evil, / Prophet still, if a bird or devil / by that heaven that bends above us / by that God we both ignore / tell this soul with sorrow laden / willful and destructive intent / how had lapsed a pure  / heart lady to the greediest of needs? / Sweaty, arrogant, dickless liar / who has ascribed to nothing higher / than a jab from a prick to a needle / straight to betrayal and disgrace / the conscience showing not a trace?"
  
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
 +
  
 
"Be that word our sign of parting / bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting. / "Get thee back into the tempest / into the smoke-filled bottle's shore. / Leave no black plume as a token / of the slime thy soul has spoken. / Leave my loneliness unbroken. / Quit as those have quit before.  / Take the talon from my heart / and see that I can care no more. / Whatever mattered came before / I vanish with the dead Lenore."  
 
"Be that word our sign of parting / bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting. / "Get thee back into the tempest / into the smoke-filled bottle's shore. / Leave no black plume as a token / of the slime thy soul has spoken. / Leave my loneliness unbroken. / Quit as those have quit before.  / Take the talon from my heart / and see that I can care no more. / Whatever mattered came before / I vanish with the dead Lenore."  
  
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
 
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"
 +
  
 
But the raven, never flitting / still is sitting silent sitting / above a painting silent painting  / of a forever silenced whore / and his eyes have all the seeming / of a demon that is dreaming / and the lamplight over him streaming / throws his shadow to the floor.  
 
But the raven, never flitting / still is sitting silent sitting / above a painting silent painting  / of a forever silenced whore / and his eyes have all the seeming / of a demon that is dreaming / and the lamplight over him streaming / throws his shadow to the floor.  
  
I love she who hates me more. / I love she who hates me more. / and my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow. / Nevermore.
+
I love she who hates me more. / I love she who hates me more / and my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow. / Nevermore.
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<hr>
  
[https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48860/the-raven Poe's text],
+
[https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48860/the-raven Poe's original] (1845).
  
  
[[Category:Music]]
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[[Category:Music]][[Category:Poetry]]

Latest revision as of 21:29, 12 August 2020

"The Raven", Edgar Allen Poe (1845), revisited by Lou Reed (2003)


Gustav Doré, 1884.

Once upon a midnight dreary / as 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 someone gently rapping / rapping at my chamber door / "'Tis some visitor", I muttered. / "tapping at my chamber door / only this and nothing more".


Muttering I got up weakly / always have had trouble sleeping / stumbling upright my mind racing / furtive thoughts flowing once more / I there, hoping for some sunrise. / "Happiness would be a surprise; / loneliness no longer a prize. / Rapping at my chamber door, / seeking out the clever bore / lost in dreams forever more / only this and nothing more".


Hovering my pulse was racing / stale tobacco my lips tasting / Scotch sitting upon my basin / remnants of the night before. / Came again / infernal tapping on the door / in my mind jabbing, / "Is it in or outside rapping, / calling out to me once more / the fit and the fury of Lenore, / nameless here forever more?


And the silken sad uncertain / rustling of the purple curtain / thrilled me, filled me / with fantastic terrors never felt before / so that now, O Wind!, stop breathing / hoping yet to calm my breathing / "Tis some visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door, / some lost visitor entreating / entrance at my chamber door. / This is it, and nothing more."


Deep into the darkness peering, / long I stood there / wondering, fearing, / doubting, dreaming fantasies / no mortal dared to dream before. / But the silence was unbroken, / and the stillness gave no token / and the only word there spoken / was the whispered name, "Lenore?". / This I thought / and out loud whispered from my lips. / The foul name festered, / echoing itself, / merely this, and nothing more.


Back into my chamber turning, / every nerve within me burning / when once again I heard a tapping / somewhat louder than before / "Surely", said I / "surely that is something at my iron staircase." / "Open the door to see what (the) threat is / Open the window, free the shutters. / Let us this mystery explore. / Oh bursting heart be still this once. / Let's this mystery explore. / It's the wind, it's the wind / and nothing more."

Super Bowl XXXV ring (Baltimore Ravens)


Just one epithet I muttered, as inside / I gagged and shuddered, / when with manly flirt and flutter / in there flew a stately raven, / sleek and ravenous as any foe, / not the least obeisance made he / not a minutes gesture towards me / of recognition or politeness, / but perched above my chamber door / this foul and salivating visage, / insinuating with its knowledge, / perched above my chamber door, / silent sat and staring: / nothing more.


Askance, askew, / the self-said fancy smiles at you. I swear / at this savage vicious countenance it wears. / "Though you show here shorn and shaven, / I admit myself forlorn and craven, / Ghastly grim and ancient Raven / wandering from the opiate shores / tell me what thy lordly name is, / that you are not nightmare sewage, / some dire powder drink or inhalation / framed from flames of downtown lore."

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


And the raven, sitting lonely, / staring sickly at my male sex only. / That one word as if his soul / and in that one word / he did outpour, "pathetic." / "Nothing fa(r)ther" then he uttered / Not a feather then he fluttered / till finally 'twas I that muttered / as I stared dully at the floor. / "Other friends have flown and left me, / Flown as each and every hope has flown before / and as you no doubt will, 'fore the 'morrow."

But the bird said, "Nevermore!"


Where's the tempest?

But then I felt the air grow denser / perfumed from some unseen incense / as though accepting angelic intrusion / when in fact I felt collusion / before the guise of false memories. / Respite! Respite! / Through the haze of cocaine's glory / I smoke and smoke the blue vial's glory / to forget at once the base Lenore.

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore".


"Prophet", said I, "thing of evil, / Prophet still, if a bird or devil / by that heaven that bends above us / by that God we both ignore / tell this soul with sorrow laden / willful and destructive intent / how had lapsed a pure / heart lady to the greediest of needs? / Sweaty, arrogant, dickless liar / who has ascribed to nothing higher / than a jab from a prick to a needle / straight to betrayal and disgrace / the conscience showing not a trace?"

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


"Be that word our sign of parting / bird or fiend," I yelled upstarting. / "Get thee back into the tempest / into the smoke-filled bottle's shore. / Leave no black plume as a token / of the slime thy soul has spoken. / Leave my loneliness unbroken. / Quit as those have quit before. / Take the talon from my heart / and see that I can care no more. / Whatever mattered came before / I vanish with the dead Lenore."

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"


But the raven, never flitting / still is sitting silent sitting / above a painting silent painting / of a forever silenced whore / and his eyes have all the seeming / of a demon that is dreaming / and the lamplight over him streaming / throws his shadow to the floor.

I love she who hates me more. / I love she who hates me more / and my soul shall not be lifted from that shadow. / Nevermore.


Poe's original (1845).