Edgar Allan Poe-The Raven- Read by James Earl Jones
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- Опубликовано: 29 сен 2024
- The Raven was written by Edgar Allan Poe. Read by James Earl Jones. Effects and music added, as well as images related to the raven. A fan video made by a fellow poet.
Want the NO SOUND EFFECTS VERSION, SEE HERE
• The Raven written by E...
Christopher Lee version
• The Raven by Edgar All...
Vincent Price version
• The Raven By Edgar All...
Dramatic Acting Version
• The Raven by Edgar All...
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Oi
Oi
oi
oi
Olá
Poe *****
To a man for all seasons and a voice for all the ages. Rest in peace James, you've earned it.
Glad to see someone else came strait here after hearing he past. You have good taste.
Indeed. If he believed in Christ James shall rest in the kingdom of God ❤
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 mortal 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 blessed 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 farther 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 lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls 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 of 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 lamp-light 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!
thank you
Que belleza de lectura del Raven
Èklair i
I know it's been 2 years since you took the time to post that, but thanks!
Pretty cool man
Rest in Power King
The Raven
BY EDGAR ALLAN 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 mortal 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 blessed 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 farther 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 lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls 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 of 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 lamp-light 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!
I must comment…
Thanks.
Quoth the raven
Bart:nevermore
Homer:why you little
Bart:uh-oh
thank you!
You know, you could just fall asleep just listening to his voice narrating the Raven
exactly what I'm doing right now
+Bodybag 15 same
I wish it was read by Morgan Freeman
That's why I do it before bed
+Thunder-Wing175 I'm trying to get my children to do just that
Rest in peace. This rendition of the raven changed the trajectory of my life for the better. I wouldn't be where I am without it. Thank you and may you rest in peaceful eternity.
"God help my soul" were his dying words.
A tortured soul who walked the razor's edge between madness and "...long horrible intervals of sanity."
This is beautiful, My mind needed this.
My soul needed it.
Everytime I read or hear this poem I always think. Why has this never been made into a Live Action Movie. 🙏🙏🙏
Darth Mufasa's voice lines sound pretty good.
Came here to just to say Rest in Peace James Earl Jones
May you rest in peace, Mr. Jones. 😢
If he believed in Jesus Christ yes❤
Holy shit , his rhymes don’t quit. It’s hard to sit and listen too it.
Chilling yet so beautiful
Insert Darth Vader breathing here
R.I.P James Earl Jones.
Love this Edgar Allen Poe is amazing
My favourite poem. It was actually the Simpsons who introduced me to it. I think it's well written and calming.
damn, could listen to this forever guy
Simply Fantastic
I think this is depressing story of how the protagonist lost his love. The Raven reps his sanity/depression.
Vincent Price, Christopher Lee and James Earl Jones. The only way this would've been complete was if Alan Rickman were still alive.
They say Edgar Allan Poe himself did an excellent read of his own poem as well.
It's great, but I prefer his version for the Simpsons.
I love this so much
Raven said “never more “, and so Bojack Horseman got the job
Nice work on the video cheers
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.
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
2
Created for Lit2Go on the web at etc.usf.edu
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."
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
3
Created for Lit2Go on the web at etc.usf.edu
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."
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
4
Created for Lit2Go on the web at etc.usf.edu
"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!
THE END.
Darth Vader loves poetry
His voice just amplifies the writing so much it's almost unbearable to have the two come together. Good god this is so awesome
I'm torn between this and Christopher Walken's rendition both are excellent but the weird tempo and meter of Walken's seem to match Poe's to significant effect. That said James's delivery here is stunning.
Two icons unite
I love this poem but your voice makes me sleepy T_T
(*you're)
Then his voice makes me sleepy.
Wow! You're sensitive. I'd be happy if someone politely corrected my Spanish, after all.
And I even included the parentheses for your pleasure- how shameful.
Pie A La Mode Te puedo corregir?
It is a good voice. It's just one that makes me sleepy. ^_^
Pie A La Mode Deep voices can have a calming effect. So it's no wonder that the brilliant voice of james Earl Jones makes you sleepy ^^
Why is the background music the same volume as the voice actors voice?
Natsume Soseki,Edgar Allen Poe
Matsushita Konosuke and Richard Nixon
Reminds me of the Baltimore Ravens
Nevermore😢
I’d love to hear Benedict Cumberbatch read this at one point.
Yes, I was just watching the Simpsons.
BeyondTheDarkness09, can you send me the link to the background music?
all i picture is mufasa tellin this to lil simba^^ as a bedtime story^^
Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore"
"WHY YOU LITTLE..."
Quaff, oh quaff !!!
Uh-oh! 😯
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from OFF. MY. DOOR.
D'oh! Stupid censer!
*Throws flower vase* D'oh, I missed!
So beautifully read. And now we will never hear that voice and talent again. Thankful for things like this. RIP James Earl Jones
We will hear that voice Nevermore...
It's interesting how this is often considered a horror poem, but whenever I read it, it always seemed more depressing than scary. This rendition seems to emphasize that the best.
Yea. Same. Poe wrote later in his philosophy of composition that the single feeling he tried to achieve was melocholy
Faith Elizabeth Yeah, at least in his poetry, I always felt that it exuded more of a dour or sad tone than a horrific one. His short stories tended to be more in the horror/thriller vein, I feel. Cool to see someone who also feels that way.
it is, according to an essay by Poe, a satire on a literary style that was popular at the time.
Really? Well, that's ironic, considering how it's often touted as a gothic masterpiece. I bet all the "tortured ones" would feel a bit silly if they knew that.
Yep, he said that it was based on the tortured student motif, the raven was chosen because they can talk and it was a better choice than a parrot. He wrote some funny stuff. "Never Bet the Devil Our Head" and an essay on editing for a local literary group.
RIP bro came immediately to this video
Quoth the passive aggressive raven, "Nevermind."
It's fine.
This is the best thing I've ever read
Quoth the Sith Lord,
"No, I am your father"
🤣
The news came out about an hour ago. Rest in peace, James Earl Jones! 😢
i cant believe that he died although we never meet james was a my teacher and a good friend and like an older brother although i'm white and he's black he was and is a good friend RIP Mr.Jones
This is probably my favourite oral interpretation of this poem. Christopher Lee's is a bit too slow for my liking. The haunting music helps here as well.
same
This and that of Bincent Price for sure imo
I love reading this poem myself. More so than anything else I've ever read. It's incredibly fun to read. It's the true genius of this poem, the flow and the vocabulary, I love it.
English Lessons with Alex (engVid AlexESLvid) pp
There's no match for Christopher Lee, his recitation is just like pouring Soul in to the story..........He reads is with so much passion and those perfectly timed glottal stops and crisp word endings, adding a whole lot of prestige to his already aristocratically styled British accent. Aah!! man its so mesmerizing I can llisten to him Sir Christopher Lee all day long........
Listening to this on the day of his passing.
Mufasa telling Simba a bedtime story
+CBright7831 Darth Vader telling simba a bedtime story
CBright7831 Yep
+Dave Acron This was the one story Vader read to Luke
An 8 minute bedtime story, I'm asleep already, but then waking up cause I wanna hear the rest.
I'm very sorry but this poem is the best in history and the Lion King is completely irrelevant
Rest well legend.
A voice like dark chocolate and warm honey. Mr Jones could be reading the ingredients from a soup can and I'd still be spellbound.
You should hear Christopher Lee
@@kellylife3959 I listened to the version read by Sir Christopher Lee about two years ago, and loved it. He gave the poem a wealth that few have matched. But James Earl Jones' voice is just so amazing, it really doesn't matter what he reads.
😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂
i like the simpson's one and the raven (bart) says "eat my shorts" or something
He could be reading a school yearbook talking in this tone with his voice and I would love to listen to it.
James Earl Jones (and The Simpsons) introduced me to this poem and thus Poe - very glad they did.
Quote the Raven: "Remember who you are."
Whoah that's deep
Quoth the Raven: 'My son works??!!!'
"I am your father."
@@TheJimmyClip 😂
R.I.P. James Earl Jones
Rest in piece😢Brilliant reading
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.”
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 visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visiter 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 mortal 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 blessed 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 farther 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 my sad 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 lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls 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 of 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 lamp-light 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!
Good job!
Thank you
Thank you!
R.I.P James Earl Jones
Your voice will never be forgotten.....nevermore. 😥🥲
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Rest In Peace James Earl Jones, my favorite voice rendition of one of my favorite poems by Edgar Allan Poe, or favorite from any poet for that matter
Rest in Peace, James Earl Jones.
Darth Vader reciting The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe... Your argument is invalid...
who was also mufasa in the lion king series
i mean he
Oh yeah? Christopher Lee, who played Dracula, and Saruman the White recited this as well. Also an excellent reading of the poem
RUclips comments, nevermore
Darth Vader: “Perhaps you think you're being treated unfairly?"
Raven: “Nevermore."
Darth Vader: “Good. It would be unfortunate if I had to leave a garrison here."
His lost Padme
Quote the Lando: This deal's gettin' worse all the time.
"Requiem for the Nameless Dead" by Adrian von Ziegler is what is playing in the background.
Thanks, wonderful song
thanks I was wondering! beautiful song and well fitting this reading
upvote for friendly music knowledge
Thank You! I was wanting to find out. It's beautiful!!!
Sounds beautifully saddening. '
"Quoth the raven... Eat my shorts!"
"Bart! Stop it! He says "Nevermore", and that's all he'll ever say."
"WHY YOU LITTLE!"
Lol
Lisa: Bart stop it he said nevermore and thats all he’ll ever say
Bart: ok ok
Simba, I am your Raven.
ha ha! okay i get it now! wow thats funny!
THIS IS FAKE NEWS.
No it shouldnt be luke... that would only be 2/3 as funny
Well... well well well... well well well well... look who we have here...
Leave no black plume as a token for that lie thy soul has spoken leave my loneliness unbroken quit the bust above my door take thy beak from out my heart and take thy form from out my door quote the raven,nevermore
I never knew he did a straight version! His performance on The Simpsons was quite compelling, I'm glad he redid it.
I feel the same!
Thank you for everything, Mr. Jones. We miss you. 💜
I love this poem so much. Poe captures the pain and sorrow of grieving for a loved one and the fear that you’ll never see them again and they are well and truly gone. It’s something we’ll all feel one day and it’s oddly comforting to know that those feelings aren’t new and that you aren’t the only one to feel that.
My Father read that to me just before he died. Now I know why Thank you
Well said.
Poe, a true artist. I absolutely love this poem and read by James Earl Jones, perfection. The music and sounds add so much to the experience and dark atmosphere of the poem. It builds you up, man. This video is amazing
Vader: Luke... I am Lenore
Quoth Luke: Nevermore
His voice makes the poem seem horrifically sombre and melancholy, especially with the music in the background. My favourite reading of the tale yet.
RIP legend. 🖤
One of the most epic voices of our time.
RIP Mr Jones
Unintentional ASMR?
This is too good.
Yes! I was posting this on Facebook and said how much I love JEJ because he has the most ASMR voice ever!
Thank you, James.
Rest well.
James Earl Jones was born to read to The Raven.
Between the sheer power of James Earl Jones' voice, the rain and thunder, and the very fitting background music, this is the best reading of this around.
the music is terrible destroys the whole reading. its not television its a poem
JEJ has the voice to do this. Nobody could've done it better.
Mufasa, Thulsa Doom, Darth Vader, and now E.A. Poe; is there nothing this man DOESN'T make epically badass? I think not!
Sandlot
“This is CNN.”
Looks like it's Poetry Slam Night aboard the Death Star!
99thJediWarrior
Lenore could be a stand in for padme
We do not grant you the rank of rhyme master
Quoth the Raven "No I am your father"
Mr Brownstone lol
🤣🤣🤣
So this is how Mufasa met Zazu
lol
TheBaltoRevolution yupp
I like that joke. Very cool.
Quoth the hornbill, "Nevermore".
I am so glad that I will most likely have this video for a long time to come to remember his amazing voice. Many great actors and actresses have died in my lifetime, but some really leave a space in your life that can never be filled.
quoth the raven, "nah"
Morganiss Quoth the raven “Eat my shorts!”
Quoth the raven, “No! Fuck you!”
quoth the raven "uno reverse card"
😂
Quoth the raven, "no u"
Thank-You for all you have done...We'll Miss You, James...
Im sad😢
Gothic poetry is so hauntingly beautiful.
Rest in peace to a legend
I don't think I caught a word of this whole thing I was too lost in the voice to hear sentences
The Raven & James Earl Jones make an excellent combination. Rest in peace sir. 😢
If He believed in Christ yes but I think he did
@@wolfgangamadeusmozart1293 According to what I read he was. However, I don’t know his heart just his professional work.
@@Sabrina-od4mr exactly. We don't know what went on in the heart of the late James Earl Jones, that is only for God to decide. But those who believed in Christ unto death will rest eternally with God in his kingdom. ✝️ God bless you!
this is an excellent version. While he tried to read it with the intended meaning, he kept an eye to the musicality too, which is something others often disregard.
The Raven
BY EDGAR ALLAN 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 mortal 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 blessed 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 farther 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 lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls 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 of 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 lamp-light 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!
As a poet myself, I am beyond impressed with James Earl Jones and his interpretation of this all-time classic poem. Mr. Jones is not just one of the greatest actors of the past century, but an American national (and international) treasure.
I don't like Edgar Allan Poe I think he's depressing and scary
@@marynicholson5494 art is meant to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed. You are lucky that this is not comforting to you.
Its amazing how a few verses of well written literature can conjure so many frightful images. Your imagination is so powerful.
There called verses in songs. Stanzas in poems.
Why does it have to end? 😭
i find your lack of raven's disturbing
This is the best rendition of the Raven I've ever heard. Man, what a voice! Truly one in a million.
+irvgaddi21 I like Lee's and Walken's more, but this is one of the best!
The greatest poem of a lost love.... Ever. I will miss my love for all time. Maybe in another life we will be together.... Nevermore. I love CNC. - Eternally yours JMC.
I felt they came back in the bleak of december to take him last sentence soul shadow on the floor. My dad died in dec. He was quoting this poem never heard him do it before my mom passed 2016 so idk if she came for him but all seems so coincidental
No matter what, they are together now. And Im sure watching over you. You will see them again one day. 🙏🏽
Command and Conquer was also my first love ;)
Is it wrong if we fall asleep to this?
I would love to Live in a dark Mansion, on a lonely hill, where it rains often, oh, Paradise
ah, i knew i wasn't the only one...