rther revised by him; in fact, he printed it
in Richmond, just before his death, with the poetic substitution of
"seraphim whose foot-falls" for "angels whose faint foot-falls," in the
fourteenth stanza. Our present text, therefore, while substantially that of
1845, is somewhat modified by the poet's later reading, and is, I think,
the most correct and effective version of this single poem. The most
radical change from the earliest version appeared, however, in the volume
in 1845; the eleventh stanza originally having contained these lines,
faulty in rhyme and otherwise a blemish on the poem:

"Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster--so, when Hope he would adjure,
Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure--
That sad answer, 'Nevermore!'"

It would be well if other, and famous, poets could be as sure of making
their changes always improvements. Poe constantly rehandled his scanty show
of verse, and usually bettered it. _The Raven_ was the first of the few
poems which he nearly brought to completion before printing. It may be that
those who care for poetry lost little by his death. Fluent in prose, he
never wrote verse for the sake of making a poem. When a refrain of image
haunted him, the lyric that resulted was the inspiration, as he himself
said, of a passion, not of a purpose. This was at intervals so rare as
almost to justify the Fairfield theory that each was the product of a
nervous crisis.

What, then, gave the poet his clue to _The Raven_? From what misty
foundation did it rise slowly to a music slowly breathed? As usual, more
than one thing went to the building of so notable a poem. Considering the
longer sermons often preached on brief and less suggestive texts, I hope
not to be blamed for this discussion of a single lyric,--especially one
which an artist like Dore has made the subject of prodigal illustration.
Until recently I had supposed that this piece, and a few which its author
composed after its appearance, were exceptional in not having grown from
germs in his boyish verse. But Mr. Fearing Gill has shown me some
unpublished stanzas by Poe, written in his eighteenth year, and entitled,
"The Demon of the Fire." The manuscript appears to be in the poet's early
handwriting, and its genuineness is vouched for by the family in whose
possession it has remained for half a century.