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Theme, Structure, Meaning and Historical Context.

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Theme, Structure, Meaning and Historical Context.

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"The Raven" exemplifies themes of grief, negativity, and depression. The narrator has lost his love, Lenore, and thoughts of her constantly occupy his mind. His grief over her ultimately leads to his negativity, especially when the bird seemingly confirms he may not be able to see her again, even after birth. By asking questions that he knew would only be answered by "nevermore", the man set himself up for a downward spiral. This grief and negativity inherently causes the mans depression, for he finds himself lost in contemplation, that the raven only made worse. The poem is a rhyming trochaic octameter, which is extremely organized and has a lyrical quality. Poe was inspired in his writing by Charles Dickens, who happened to, "include a comical raven named Grip," (Owleyes.org) in one of his early writings. Edgar was able to take this raven and transform it into a different being in his piece.

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Imagery- Imagery is the descriptive language used in literature to recreate sensory experiences relating to sight, taste, touch, hearing, and smell. Poe uses a large amount of imagery throughout "The Raven". He describes his surrounding area, such as, "the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain" (Poe, 13 ) This makes the scene appear clearly in a readers mind, and influences the mood that one might feel.

Internal Rhyme- Rhyme that occurs within a single line is internal rhyme. "Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter," (Poe, 37) clearly demonstrates Poe's usage of the technique. In this single line, shutter and flutter rhyme. This is repeated a large amount of times throughout the poem, and it gives it a very lyrical quality- one that contributed to the poems fame.

Allusion- An allusion is a reference to a well-known person, place, event, literary work, or work of art. Edgar does this four times in this poem. One of these mentions the "Night’s Plutonian shore," (Poe, 47), which is from Greek Mythology. Pluto is the Greek god of the underworld, and this reference is able to evoke a feeling of darkness. This may also pertain to death, as the narrator's mental state appears to be close to it.

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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!

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Caitlin, Owl Eyes Editor. "The Raven." Owl Eyes. N.p., n.d. Web. 06 Apr. 2017. <https://www.owleyes.org/text/raven/analysis/historical-context>.

"Poe's Biography | Edgar Allan Poe Museum." Poe's Biography | Edgar Allan Poe Museum. N.p., n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2017. <http://www.poemuseum.org/poes-biography>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "A Dream Within a Dream." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.<https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/52829>

Poe, Edgar Allan. "A Dream Within a Dream." Poets.org. Academy of American Poets, 01 June 2016. Web. 04 Apr. 2017.<https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/dream-within-dream>.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Raven." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 06 Apr. 2017. <https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/48860>.

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Theme, Structure, Meaning, and Historical Context. 

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Theme, Structure, Meaning, and Historical Context. 

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Edgar Allan Poe's "A Dream Within a Dream" tells of a man who has parted from his wife, and then becomes distraught with the idea that life is possibly unreal, simply a dream within a dream. He wonders why the days of life as slipping by, with no control over it, and wonders why God would do such a thing. In this perspective he thinks that life is a dream, and death is the true awakening. The theme of this poem is uncertainty. The narrator finds himself questioning almost everything that is real. Life itself, he wonders, may be, "but a dream within a dream," (Poe, 11). The poem has the premise of an iambic trimeter, yet has an irregularity in line 11. There are two stanzas which are interconnected, yet tell much different stories. In his life, Poe explored this concept, stating that, "It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.” (Poets.org) He went through questioning times in life, and represented this in the poem.

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Repetition- Repetition is a technique in which a sound, word, phrase or line is repeated for emphasis or unity. Poe repeats, "All that we see or seem/ Is but a dream within a dream," (Poe, 10,11) In both stanzas. This shows the importance of the statement, and shows how this is the true concept he is pondering: if life is unreal, and if it could all be a dream.

Alliteration- The repetition of initial consonant sounds of several words in a group is alliteration. Poe states, " You are not wrong, who deem/That my days have been a dream," (Poe, 4, 5) Here is it seen that the consonant "D" is repeated. This links the words together and creates a smoother poem.

Symbol- Symbols are people, places, objects, or activities that stand for something beyond itself. For the author, it is frustrating that he can not hold on tighter to the, "Grains of the golden sand" (Poe ) and that they continuously fall through his hands. In this respect, the grains of sand represent the days of one's life. For the speaker, it was hard to grasp what in life was real and what was a dream.

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Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

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Edgar Allan Poe was born on January 19, 1809, in Boston Massachusetts. Early on, his mother had left her husband and taken the kids; however, she died when Edgar was only two. After this point, he was adopted by John Allan and his wife. Poe was put through good schools, such as, at six, studying in England for five years, and later returning to America. In 1826, Poe attended the University of Virginia, yet started to drink heavily, quickly became in debt, and had to drop out. In 1827, Edgar joined the army, and did relatively well. In New York in 1831, he had some poetry published, but his work was rejected by many magazines. In 1835, Poe got a job as an editor of newspaper due to winning a contest. In 1836, Edgar married his cousin, Virginia. He was 27 and she was 13. He found himself in and out of jobs for a large portion of his adult life. In 1845, the publication of "The Raven" made Poe's name widely known. Virginia died in 1847, causing him great suffering. Poe went to Philadelphia and later Richmond, and got remarried to Sarah Royster Shelton. On October 3, Poe was found at Gunner's Hall, a public house, and was taken to the hospital. He came in and out of consciousness, but was never able to explain what happened to him. Edgar died in the hospital on October 7, 1849.

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Edgar Allan Poe