Open Raven

The Raven is a highly symbolic creature that is mentioned in a variety of cultures with varied purposes&nbsp;. One of the meanings is that of transformation.

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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 curtainThrilled 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 onlyThat 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 expressingTo 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 censerSwung 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 sittingOn 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!

The Raven (January 1845)

Exploring AGI's progress and limitations: from visual reasoning struggles to potential in automating front-end engineering and aiding scientific discovery.

How Far Are We From Human-level Intelligence in AI?

Farewell, sad Isle, farewell, thy fatal gloryIs summed, cast up, and cancelled in this story.

Hear you not the rushing sound of the coming tempest?

“I suspect my ‘gentleman’ includes your ‘true man.’”

MEN AND GENTLEMEN.

“I never thought to hear father call on God again. But yo’ heard him say, ‘So help me God!’”

ANGEL VISITS.

“The repetition would be useless,” said Raymond, “since I well remember them, and have many others, self-suggested, which speak with unanswerable persuasion.”

Is there such a feeling as love at first sight?

“Men draw thither to admire the heights of the mountains and the powerful waves of the sea—and to turn away from themselves.”

THE HYMN OF CREATION

"It's very hard in a country like England, for a young woman to set herself in opposition to prejudices of that sort," said the prudent Charlotte.

The Widow's Suitors

The highest of the aristocracy were as eager in this hot pursuit of gain as the most plodding jobber in Cornhill. 

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE

“Say not so, my lord,” interrupted Dona Sancha; “you are the greatest, wisest, and most just king who has ever sat upon the throne of Naples.”

In the night of the 15th of January 1343

Mr. Alexander Marr of Markdale died very suddenly last week. We never heard of his death till he was dead.

EXTRACTS FROM THE FEBRUARY AND MARCH NUMBERS OF “OUR MAGAZINE”

Matthew Cuthbert and the sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to Bright River.


Matthew Cuthbert is surprised

The Onthophagus is a very indifferent artist: his nest is a rudimentary piece of work, hardly fit to be acknowledged.

THE ONTHOPHAGI

For the more important work of life there is nothing like the humble toilers for realizing vast strength, made up of their joint weaknesses.

ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI

The insect has ovarian æsthetics of its own, which have no relation to those of the bird.

THE PENTATOMÆ AND THEIR EGGS

Vision is the main channel by which man receives his impressions. To a large extent it has slowly superseded all the other senses.

Vision is the main channel by which man receives his impressions

“Lo, the Virgin!...
Her favor be upon us!”

THE EVENING SKY AT THE VERNAL EQUINOX

The Moonshine had nineteen persons, William Bruton, captain; John Ellis, master; the rest mariners.

THE FIRST VOYAGE OF MASTER JOHN DAVIS

The speed of the fellow seemed to preclude the possibility of escaping him upon the open beach. 

OUT OF THE DIRECT PATH OF THE ANIMAL

Reptiles that they are, the rough surface of a great stone is to them as plush as upholstery to us.

THE BEGINNING OF HORROR

Lightly, for so gross a thing, his touch followed the recumbent figure of the girl until his giant paws felt the silky luxuriance of her raven hair.


THE ABDUCTION OF NADARA

The girl narrowed her eyes, and tilted her chin a bit higher. “Rympth!” she ejaculated, disgustedly.


AN EXODUS AND A BATTLE

Open Raven is the modern data security platform that brings visibility and control to an organization’s data protection program

OPEN RAVEN

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Open Raven's stories on HackerNoon

Ravencoin Review — A Bitcoin Code Fork Looking to Bring Real-World Assets onto Blockchain

How an 8B Open Model Sets New Standards for Safe and Efficient Vision-Language AI

The Raven (January 1845)

How Far Are We From Human-level Intelligence in AI?

Hear you not the rushing sound of the coming tempest?

MEN AND GENTLEMEN.

ANGEL VISITS.

Is there such a feeling as love at first sight?

THE HYMN OF CREATION

The Widow's Suitors

THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE

In the night of the 15th of January 1343

EXTRACTS FROM THE FEBRUARY AND MARCH NUMBERS OF “OUR MAGAZINE”

Matthew Cuthbert is surprised

THE ONTHOPHAGI

ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI

THE PENTATOMÆ AND THEIR EGGS

Vision is the main channel by which man receives his impressions

THE EVENING SKY AT THE VERNAL EQUINOX

THE FIRST VOYAGE OF MASTER JOHN DAVIS

OUT OF THE DIRECT PATH OF THE ANIMAL

THE BEGINNING OF HORROR

THE ABDUCTION OF NADARA

AN EXODUS AND A BATTLE

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