The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, Narrated by Jeffrey Robert Adams
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EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Once upon a midnight's dreary while I pondered, weak and weary. There are many quaint curious volume of forgotten lore while I nodded, nearly napping. Suddenly there came a tapping as if someone gently rapping, wrapping at my chamber door, artist and visitor, I must tapping at my chamber door. Oh my, this and nothing more uh distinctly. I remember it was in the Bleak December and each separate diameter rot its ghost upon the floor eagerly. I wish tomorrow vainly. I had stopped to borrow from my book. Cease of sorrow. Sorrow for the lost lenore for the meeting and the angels named Leno. Nameless here Forevermore and the silken sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain filled me filled me with fantastic terror has never felt before. So now, distill the beating of my heart. I stood repeating at just some visitor intruding entrance at my chamber door, some late visitor and treating entrance at my chamber door. This is his and nothing more presently, my soul grew stronger, hesitating than no longer surf. I said, well, madam, truly your forgiveness. I implore the fact is I was napping and so gently you, you came rapping so faintly you came tapping, tapping up my chamber door that I was scarce. I'm sure I heard you here. I opened up the door and darkness. There. Nothing more deep into that darkness. Peering long. I stood there wondering, cheering, doubting, dreaming dreams no more. I ever did 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, I whispered and, and echo my way back. The word lenore. Merely this and nothing more back into the chamber. Turning all my soul within me burning. Soon again, I heard it tapping somewhat louder than before. Surely. I said, surely that's something at my window. Let us, let me see then what their ad is and this mystery explorer, let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore, uh just the wind. Nothing more open here. I flung the shutter when with many flirting flutter in there. Step a stately raven. The saintly days of your at at least the bass made here at a minute, stopped or stayed here. But then with the mane of Lord or lady perched upon my chamber door, perched upon a bust of palace just above my chamber door, perched and sat and this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling by the grave and STN decorum of the coton at war though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou I said, Art Shore. No. And ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the nightly shore. Tell me what thy Lordly name is on. The Knight's Plutonian shore. Caught the Raven never more.