The Raven's Return: A Midnight Sequel

The Raven's Return: A Midnight Sequel
A Continuation of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"

Once upon a midnight weary, as I wandered, worn and teary,
Through the chamber where the Raven sat upon my chamber door—
Years had passed since that December, yet I still could well remember
Every word that spectral member spoke of Lenore, my lost Lenore—
That dark prophet still remaining, perched above my chamber door,
Whispering forever, 'Nevermore.'

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors felt so long before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating:
'It is but the wind entreating entrance through my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.'

But 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!

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 sent thee—by these angels he hath lent 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!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
I shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!'
Quoth the Raven, 'Evermore.'

Startled by this strange new token—word so long ago unspoken—
'Evermore?' I gasped in wonder, trembling on the chamber floor.
'Dost thou speak of hope eternal? Light within this vault infernal?
After years of grief nocturnal, shall I see my lost Lenore?'
And the Raven stirred his pinions, spread them wide above the door,
Murmuring softly, 'Evermore.'

Then a light began to glimmer, and the darkness seemed to shimmer,
As if dawn itself were breaking through my long-sealed chamber door;
And I thought I heard her singing—bells of silver sweetly ringing—
And the scent of roses clinging to the air I breathed of yore.
Could it be my lost beloved, she whom I had grieved so sore?
Could it be... forevermore?

But the vision faded, fleeting, and I felt my frail heart beating
As the shadows crept returning, darker than they were before.
And the Raven sat there, gleaming, and I knew not: waking, dreaming?
Had he spoken? Was I screaming? Madness knocking at my door?
Only silence hung between us—silence... and the name Lenore.
Only this and nothing more.

Still the Raven keeps his station, mockery of my desolation,
And I wonder if salvation waits beyond that spectral door.
Was his promise merely seeming? Or perhaps—oh, hopeful dreaming!—
Somewhere past the lamplight gleaming, I shall find my lost Lenore.
Till that day I sit here waiting, watching, through my chamber door,
Waiting... evermore.