The Night Mail and Other Poems

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Merely this, and nothing more.

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Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

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Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

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"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:

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Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -

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Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -

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'Tis the wind and nothing more."

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Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

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In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;

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Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

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But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -

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Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -

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Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

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Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

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By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.