The Raven [poem]

Edgar Allan Poe got the idea for his poem The Raven after saying that the speaking raven in Dickens’ ‘Barnaby Rudge’ deserved a more prophetic role. It made Poe a national celebrity; his readings of it, in near darkness, were considered spell-binding.
📖"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."
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Sua técnica poética é controversa. Poucos poetas dependeram tanto da forma quanto Poe. Simplicidade, imediatismo e derramamento emocional não eram com ele. É fácil rotulá-lo de apelativo, mas Poe jamais usou a forma pela forma. Formalista? Sim. Formulista? Não. Sempre se esforçou pela forma integral, atando-a a um conteúdo de show more modo que o isomorfismo (combinação) soasse natural e até inevitável. Mesmo seus detratores admitem que a sua contribuição e influência formais são inigualáveis na língua inglesa. Poe foi o primeiro a explorar a fundo a aliteração rimada, as onomatopéias, as paronomásias e outros efeitos, usando-os como qualidades inerentes, embora não obrigatórias. Muitos o têm imitado, mas poucos se lhe igualam, o que é ainda mais notável quando notamos que Poe escreveu muito pouca poesia. Nenhum dos modernos lhe chega perto, em matéria de influências desproporcionais. show less

A fine poem that is worthy of all the words expended on its analysis. The poetic techniques, the themes and the imagery are all fascinating. The poem also has a fantastic rhythm that allows the often-archaic and stylized language to flow nicely. It has dark brooding imagery, although the most powerful image is not of the raven itself but the lost love Lenore. The poem is an exercise in the narrator wondering whether he can ever be free of her memory. The raven's answer is conclusive: "Nevermore."

The Raven is a poem that can be appreciated on several levels, not the least of which is construction. One of the most perfectly constructed alliterative poems ever penned, who has not thrilled to "and the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain"? It trips off the tongue and at the same time it calls up a perfect image of a Gothic library with heavy curtains that should not, but do, rustle.

It is a study in loneliness, mourning, stress and madness. As the narrator tells us the tale of the raven's visit, he gradually degrades from someone who is attempting to find logical explanations for this event to someone who completely believes in the supernatural nature of the bird. He can no longer think rationally, because he asks show more repeated questions for which he hopes to get a positive answer but which can only get the one word response that the bird is able to give, "nevermore".

Whatever hope he may have had of recovering from the loss of his love or gaining some relief from his suffering, even in the next life, is vanquished by the repeated denials of the bird. His attempts to forget his loss and his love are seen as impossible. In the progress of the poem, we witness a man sink from loss to loss to hopelessness. In the end, he no longer clings to any remnant of his sanity. For him, the bird, "bird or devil", is something far more than an earthly creature, and it remains forever, just as his memory does, before his eyes, impossible to avoid. show less

I've read this so many times I've lost count, but I still adore it. The imagery, the creepiness, the frenetic cadence it takes on when read aloud... Pure awesomeness. I try to read it every Halloween.

Happy Halloween, EAP! This is probably the best poem in history ever to have sold for $9. But what is it about? That's a more difficult question. The poem has undeniable power, but its power (as in much of Poe) is not entirely susceptible of rational explication.

First, there's the sheer liturgical music of the poem, as evidenced from the very opening lines:

"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 visiter,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more.'"

We've technically got 8-syllable troches here show more (trochaic octometer?), with the stress on the first syllable of each line, but the real genius is how the rhymes weave in and out of the lines, with the rhymes not just happening at the end of each line but also in between (dreary / weary; napping / tapping). As a reader, you get so caught up in the sing-song rhymes that what exactly is happening seems secondary, and the fact that it's often opaque seems irrelevant to its linguistic power. Or perhaps it heightens its power in the same way as the Latin Mass, through the sheer rhythmic beauty of the sounds themselves.

Because really almost nothing is explained here--who's Lenore? What's the raven doing? Was there another visitor at the door? What does "nevermore" mean?

No, as in much of Poe, what's transcendent here is the feeling, the emotion, of dread, loss, and the slow descent into madness, until at the end, "the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting" about his door, "And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted--nevermore!" show less

My first Listen With Audrey experience and it was a delight--the presentation includes audio, visual and written notes at the end and themed art work. The poem itself is an intoxicating classic. The quick rhythms that capture you like a whirlpool forever circling inescapable grief beg to be read again the moment you finish.

In a Nutshell: The audio version helped me crack a classic poem! Enjoyed it way more than I expected. (This isn’t an insult to Poe, but an honest comment about my – Ahem! – outstanding poetic sensibilities.)

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I am not a staunch fan of verse. This logical head much prefers to read stories in prose then in poem form. I do love a few poems, but I am very much a traditionalist in my choices. Free verse makes my head spin. Rhymes and repetitions make a poem a “poem’ in my eyes.

‘The Raven’ was not at all on my reading radar. To be honest, I have attempted it twice in the last couple of years, but my brain is so anti-verse that the moment it sees lengthy poems, it goes a-wandering after the threshold show more limit is crossed. Any poem that extends beyond 15-20 lines gives me palpitations. However, a retelling based on this poem is present in the anthology I am currently reading, and I like to be familiar with the source material when I read retellings. Hence the brave decision of checking this out.

When I looked for a free version online (the poem is in the public domain, being originally published in January 1845), I stumbled upon Wikipedia, which, to my surprise and relief, featured an audio recording of this poem. I thus decided to try immersion reading - audio in the ears and text in front of the eyes - to coerce my brain into cooperating, and this idea worked brilliantly!

The poem is made up of 18 stanzas of six lines each. Generally, the meter is trochaic octameter—eight trochaic feet per line, each foot having one stressed syllable followed by one unstressed syllable. (The poetic smartness evident in this para should immediately make you realise that I didn’t write it. I copied it from Wiki so that I remember in future what a long poem I read! show less