Edgar Allan Poe-The Raven- Read by James Earl Jones 

Oi

To a man for all seasons and a voice for all the ages. Rest in peace James, you've earned it.

RIP bro came immediately to this video

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.

Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore" "WHY YOU LITTLE..."

The news came out about an hour ago. Rest in peace, James Earl Jones! 😢

So beautifully read. And now we will never hear that voice and talent again. Thankful for things like this. RIP James Earl Jones

James Earl Jones (and The Simpsons) introduced me to this poem and thus Poe - very glad they did.

Thank you for everything, Mr. Jones. We miss you. 💜

Thank you, James. Rest well.

Listening to this on the day of his passing.

Quoth the passive aggressive raven, "Nevermind."

Mufasa telling Simba a bedtime story

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.

Rest well legend.

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 piece😢Brilliant reading

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.

Quote the Raven: "Remember who you are."

Rest in Peace, James Earl Jones.

One of the most epic voices of our time. RIP Mr Jones

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!

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!

R.I.P James Earl Jones

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."

The Raven & James Earl Jones make an excellent combination. Rest in peace sir. 😢

You know, you could just fall asleep just listening to his voice narrating 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.

I never knew he did a straight version! His performance on The Simpsons was quite compelling, I'm glad he redid it.

His voice makes the poem seem horrifically sombre and melancholy, especially with the music in the background. My favourite reading of the tale yet.

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.

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 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.

Your voice will never be forgotten.....nevermore. 😥🥲

Simba, I am your Raven.

Thank-You for all you have done...We'll Miss You, James...

This is the best rendition of the Raven I've ever heard. Man, what a voice! Truly one in a million.

"Requiem for the Nameless Dead" by Adrian von Ziegler is what is playing in the background.

Gothic poetry is so hauntingly beautiful.

Unintentional ASMR? This is too good.

James Earl Jones was born to read to The Raven.

My favorite narration of this story. RIP James Earl Jones.

Mufasa, Thulsa Doom, Darth Vader, and now E.A. Poe; is there nothing this man DOESN'T make epically badass? I think not!

I remember falling in love with that baritone all over again in high school after learning about Poe. I watched this exact video countless times trying to emulate that voice - rest in peace to a legend on this earth

JEJ has the voice to do this. Nobody could've done it better.

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

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.

This has got the one of the best renditions of Poe’s work I have heard. James Earl Jones manifests with words creating the scene in your mind. You truly experience all the emotions of the character.

So this is how Mufasa met Zazu

An unforgettable masterpiece narrated by an unforgettable legend. Whenever I think of this poem I’ll be reminded of James, rest in peace man.

Vader: Luke... I am Lenore Quoth Luke: Nevermore

James Earl Jones is truly something. It made me feel more when he read this poem, than when others read it.

Its amazing how a few verses of well written literature can conjure so many frightful images. Your imagination is so powerful.

"Throws his shadow on the floor." I always loved that line.

This is the greatest poem ever written! IT gives me the chills every time I read it.

Came here to just to say Rest in Peace James Earl Jones

the voice of James Earl Jones is soothing yet is very good at describing the pain and fear that Poe feels.

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.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, While I meditated weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of Sith lore, While I meditated, nearly sleeping, Suddenly, there came a beeping As if someone gently weeping, Weeping at my meditation chamber door. 'Tis some Imperial officer,' I muttered 'Beeping on my meditation chamber door.' Only this... and nothing more."

Nothing else could chill me to the bone than James Earl Jone's voice,particularly when reading a gothic masterpiece,only to this can i fully immerse myself

Rest in Power King

A voice so powerful. And yet he can bring peace in an instant.

Darth Vader reciting The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe... Your argument is invalid...

Looks like it's Poetry Slam Night aboard the Death Star!

This poem- every time, this poem makes my eyes tear up. The message Poe brings us in the unyielding shape of Nevermore is one beautiful, yet daunted. A message we will forget nevermore.

I could listen to this man all day, thank you.

"Quoth the raven... Eat my shorts!"

I Gave the raven as a speech a whole year ago, and i still have it memorized word for word. It just stays with you soo well.

May you rest in peace, Mr. Jones. 😢

I never get tired of hearing this, combined with the soundtrack! A master piece to my ears!

Rest in peace to a legend

The Erie and dark music in the background plus ,James Earl Jones voice make it a masterpiece.

Edgar Allen Poes work is so amazing. He is the best writer in my opinion

God damn, this was haunting and beautiful. The sheer relaxed tone of his voice is a national treasure

❤ James Earl Jones' voice always gives me goosebumps!

You can feel all the mental suffferings of Allan poe and him as a unique person I resonates with him...

RIP legend. 🖤

Quoth the Raven "No I am your father"

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.

This poem is just sad! I feel depressed after this. That being said, this is my favorite poem.

quoth the raven, "nah"

"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."

Darth Mufasa's voice lines sound pretty good.

In case anyone was curious, the name of music is Requiem for the Nameless Dead - Classical Gothic Music.

This is the most beautiful reading of the poem I've heard yet.

Lord Earl Jones, your voice is more of an echo, within it it is often a sound of a deep velvet sound of the darkness, where the shadows can chant a dark spell of horror and yet, you speak it like a story. I love it

Wow ... i am almost speechless at this powerful, mesmerizing rendering of this, my most favorite dramatic composition from my early teens. I used to know this piece by heart back then, i was so fascinated by it. BEAUTIFULLY, perfectly done, Mr. Jones. No one could have done greater justice to it. Mr. Poe himself would bedumbfoundedly elated with this performance. BRAVO!

R.I.P James Earl jones. Thank you for all my childhood memories. May you rest in peace.

Rip james earl jones!

This is beautiful, My mind needed this.

No wonder why the segment of The Raven in The Simpsons Tree House Of Horror is a favorite. Especially being as read passionately by James Earl Jones just as it is here.

There should be more poems he read on youtube. I can listen all the poems from this voice. This is so impressive.

Such a beautiful voice reciting these beautiful words...so sadly gorgeous.

James Earl Jones’s voice mixed with Edgar Allan Poe’s writing, along with the haunting music, only adds beauty to something tragic.

I love this poem, this guy has a great voice for reading.

This was the first poem I ever memorized, and therefore when I listen to it I see myself at 13 years standing up and reciting the whole thing from memory for my Junior High school English teacher (thank you Mr. Bippus!). At the time I fortunately had no real clue about horror or melancholy or satire but as a 60 year old, I feel that taken far enough, as in this poem, 'horror', 'melancholy', and even 'satire' all blend together into the same place (responding to various comments about the genre of the poem). Great to hear JEJ read it ... he is fantastic.

I love this! Edgar Allen Poe writes such beautiful yet dark poetry x

Happy 85th birthday James Earl Jones

I don't think I caught a word of this whole thing I was too lost in the voice to hear sentences

This is one of my favorites by Edgar Allan poe...mainly because its sends a chill up my spine everytime I read it