Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of twilight's 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."
Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak Hearth's falling,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my novels surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Rarity,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Rarity,
Nameless here forevermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic horrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my Draco heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Twilight is there some visitor here, Or not and why are they doing visiting my room."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Twilight?" said I, "or Maybe Rainbow Dash, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the you see, it's very late and I was sleeping and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my bedroom door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before with no Luna in sight;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Rarity?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Rarity!" Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard Rattaling, something louder than before,
"Strange," said I, "strange, there seem's to be something at my window Celestia.
Let me see, then, what Discordious is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" Must have been The wind, Might need to talk to Rainbow about the wind."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Flutterbat, of the saintly days of Old.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayedS he;
But with mien of mare, or Stallion, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Celestia whom Twilight Had insisted be, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony Flutterbat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Strange you look like Fluttershy why are you visiting," I said, "art sure no Fluttering Bat,
Ghastly, grim, Flutterbat, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the Strangely name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the Flutterbat, "Nevermore... Um if that's all right"
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 pony being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bat above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore... Again my appology."
But the Flutterbat, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
Those words, as if it's soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then she uttered; not a feather then she 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 Flutterbat still beguiling all my sad soul 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."
Thus 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 Celestia hath lent thee -- by these alacorn's she hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Flutterbat, "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 Flutterbat, "Nevermore. ANd thats not very nice."
"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 alacorns named Rarity---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the Rarity name Rarity?
Quoth the Flutterbat, "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Discordian 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 Flutterbat, "Nevermore."
And the Flutterbat, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Celestia just above my chamber door;
And Her eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er her streaming throws her shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!