The Raven

The Raven was a terribly sad poem, apparently written when Poe's second wife was dying or died of TB in the very next room. "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." In this poem he depicts arguing with death; (the raven) pleading to make him feel better about his loss. This is a very good example of Dark Romanticism, the entire setting in this poem is a figment of his imagination. The raven itself is his own dark and depressing thoughts. And the Pallid bust is the head of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and thought. He asks the raven questions like "Will I ever feel okay again?" and "Will I see her in heaven?" The raven always replies with a stern "No." The fact that the raven has perched on top of Athena's bust symbolises that his sense is wavered. This is very unlike the Transcendentalism idea of all thoughts are from god. Meaning that all thoughts are good. I feel that Poe knows that he is going crazy.
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 shadows on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted--nevermore!