How the raven is supernatural poem?

Answer 1

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered

weak and weary,

Over the departure of the Colts from

Baltimore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly

there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my

clubroom door.

"Some football fool," I muttered, "tapping at my

clubroom door-

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was playoff time

in December;

And no team could raise my spirits as the Colts

had done before.

Eagerly I wished the morrow-vainly I had

sought to borrow

From memorabilia surcease of sorrow

for the lost Colts of Baltimore,

For the proud and valiant team that thrilled

me with each score-

Absent here for evermore.

And the thought of cheering on the Redskins

chilled me,

Killed me-filled me with revulsions

never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart,

I stood repeating

"Is it a Colt Corralster tapping sadly at my

clubroom door-

Another baffled fan-angry, sorry,

and pigskin poor?"

Or could this be what we've been praying for?

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

clubroom 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, dreaming-

Oh, those times Big Daddy just wouldn't let

the other team score!

But the silence was unbroken, and the still-

ness gave no token,

And the only words there spoken: "The Colts

are gone from Baltimore."

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back,

"The Colts are gone from Baltimore."

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into my clubroom turning, memories of Gino and Artie a-churning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder

than before.

"Surely," said I, "surely that is something in

my window well;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, 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 moment

stopped nor stayed he;

But perched upon my bust of Johnny, just above

my clubroom door-

Perched and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy

into smiling,

By the powerful and stern determination of the

countenance it wore,

"Though thy crest be sleek and shaven, thou,"

I said, "are sure not craven,

You wise and agile ancient Raven feasting

on this Chesapeake shore-

Reveal thy message, make it quick, my heart is sore."

Then the bird said,

"The Ravens win in Baltimore."

Much I marveled this majestic fowl to hear

discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning-little rel-

evancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living

human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his

clubroom door-

Bird or beast upon Johnny's sculptured bust above

his clubroom door, saying

"The Ravens win in Baltimore."

But the Raven, sitting nobly on Johnny's bust

spoke only

Those five words, as if his soul in those five words

he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered-not a feather

then he fluttered-

Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other

teams have flown before-

On the morrow you will leave me, as our team

left town before."

Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly

spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only

stock and store.

Brought from some unhappy master for whom

stadium disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs

one burden bore-

On the sunlit shores of Erie, they shall play

never-nevermore."

But the Raven still beguiling my curiosity into

smiling,

Straight I pushed my black recliner in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the leather sinking, I betook myself

to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this triumphant

bird of yore-

What this trim, poised, unbridled bird of yore

meant in croaking

"The Ravens win in Baltimore."

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 heart

a-thump and pining

For Chuck's smooth voice so rich and deep,

so proud and sure:

"Unitas drops back, he looks deep,

there's Lenny Moore!"

Then, methought, the air grew denser, per-

fumed by a magic censer

Swung by gridiron angels whose foot-falls tinkled

on my red tiled floor.

"Trickster," I cried, "why do you tease me about

the lost Colts from Baltimore?

Tell me, oh, tell me, how shall we ever

those glory days restore?"

Then the bird said,

"The Ravens win in Baltimore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of wonder! prophet still,

if bird or phantom!-

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest

tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, in this town by

Irsay haunted,

Tell me truly, I implore, is football back on

the Chesapeake shore?"

Quoth the Raven,

"The Ravens win in Baltimore."

"Prophet!" said I, "fowl of fortune-prophet

still of mirth and more!

By that heaven that bends above us-by that

God we both adore-

Tell this fan with expectation growing, if, what

you speak you're knowing,

Our Sundays loud again with the champion-

ship roar,

Alive with great defense and the last

second score."

Then the bird said,

"The Ravens win for Baltimore."

"Be those words the sign of blessing, bird of

greatness! the future confessing-

Linebackers as tough as Pellington, receivers

as shrewd as Berry and Orr!

I take a black plume as a token of that truth

thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my happiness unbroken! Adorn the bust

above my door!

Lay thy beak across my heart -let's hear it again:

'Touchdown Baltimore!'"

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting,

still is sitting

On that treasured bust of Johnny just above my clubroom door,

And his eyes are the picture of a victor-

contenders creaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming

throws his shadow on the floor,

And my joy from out that shadow leaps

for what's in store:

The Ravens win it all for Baltimore!

_______

© 2007 Robert Bowie Johnson, Jr.

Answer 2

"The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe is considered a supernatural poem because it involves mysterious and otherworldly elements, such as a talking raven and a sense of eerie foreboding. The poem also explores themes of grief, loss, and the supernatural, creating an unsettling and haunting atmosphere for readers. Poe's use of symbolism and vivid imagery contributes to the overall supernatural quality of the poem.

Answer 3

There is only one raven in the poem 'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe.