"The Raven" Explication

The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe

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 mortals 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 blest 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 further 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 lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!


Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls 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 in 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 lamplight 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 Allen Poe is widely hailed as one of the shaping figures of poetic literature. But his mastery was not for light and fanciful poetry. Poe was a master of capturing the dark side of humanity and the world. Much of his literature focuses on the despair and destruction that haunts many members of the human race. This poem, The Raven, is no exception.

The person to whom the poem is addressed is not known. It could be someone close to the speaker; alternately, it could be a total stranger who just happened to strike up a conversation. The speaker is similarly unnamed. However, a great deal is known about him; he is a scholarly individual (as indicated by the multiple references to classical literature that he makes) who has recently suffered the loss of a woman very dear to his heart.

The poem begins with the speaker in his chambers, reading "many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore." He then hears someone knocking at his door, only to find that when he answers the hall is empty. As he returns to his seat, the sound comes again, only from the window. Upon opening it, a raven enters and quickly sits itself on a sculpture of Pallas Athena over his door. The speaker, obviously tired and pining for company, begins talking to the bird, only to have it reply with a single word; "Nevermore".

Surprised, the poem's author continues speaking to the raven, but it only utters that single phrase again and again. Slowly, aggravated by the bird's stubbornness, the author starts to lose himself to both grief and anger. The poem takes a dark turn when he asks the bird if there is any hope for his broken heart, and again gives its characteristic one-word reply. The author starts to scream at the raven to leave, only to be rebuked by the haughty creature once again. The poem ends on a chilling note as the author reveals that the raven still remains sitting over his door, watching him eyes that "have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming", and that he feels his soul is pinned down by the shadow of the bird.

Like all of Poe's poetry, the overall mood of this piece is very dark, but this one shifts subtly as it progresses. It begins with a mourning tone as the author broods over his love, then lightens faintly as he shows curiosity and bemusement with the raven at first, only to descend into a sense of despair and rage as his conversation with the eerie creature progresses. To aid in this sense of darkness and foreboding, all of Poe's figurative language has a cold feel to it. He describes the air seeming to grow dense around him, and the light of his fire he describes by saying that "each dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor." The lamp is depicted as gloating over the velvet carpeting, another unnerving visualization. The raven, in particular, he describes with dark detail, saying at first that its eyes seem to burn their way into his soul before likening them to a demon's.

In addition to descriptive language, Poe uses a great deal of allusions to classical texts. His usage of Pallas as the raven's perch can be taken as a symbol of the bird possessing wisdom, since Pallas (or Athene) was the Greek and Roman god of knowledge. His reference to a "Plutonian shore" refers to the Greek concept of the afterlife, ruled by the god Pluto, and coincides with the speaker's apparent belief that the raven can somehow communicate with the spirit world. And his usage of the phrase "Balm in Gilead" is a token to a Biblical passage, and describes how the author requires healing of his soul.

The title of the poem, at first so obvious, can actually take some symbolism. Ravens in many ancient folk tales were held as messengers of the gods, omens of fate, and friends of the world beyond. Therefore, the title is probably a reference both to the death of the author's love and of the dark power that the author gives to the raven later in the poem.

The theme of this poem is somewhat hard to discern. At first it seems to be about undying love, then about the rage of a broken heart. Overall, however, it seems to mostly be about the pain of loss, and the madness such agony can bring about.

The poem's structure is fairly complex. Each stanza is made up of six lines, arranged in an abcbbb rhyme scheme, with the last line of each stanza much shorter than the others. However, some of the lines in each stanza are written in such a way that they could easily be divided in two. The two sections that make up the first line and the rhyme at the end, as do the two parts of the third line and the first part of the fourth. The second, fifth, and sixth lines of each stanza all read as one single section, without measure. This gives the poem an intricate, almost musical rhythm to it, somewhat odd considering its cold tone. Furthermore, Poe uses a great deal of rather archaic and scholarly language in much of the poem, adding a more contemplative air.

This poem's explication is included in this project for a few reasons. For one, it is a poem that I find at once chilling and intriguing, one that I read often just because I find new meanings to different phrases each time. For another, it holds a happy memory. This was one of the poems I read with my mother once, and one that she enjoyed listening to me read. And so, in honor of that memory, I have chosen to truly delve into this literary work.