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Hello and welcome to meters pod Live episode one. I'm your host

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D Mitas. We're here at well traveled beer in Goldsboro,

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North Carolina to celebrate a night with Edgar Allan Poe.

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Edgar Allan Poe is an American short story writer, poet, critic

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and editor who's famous for his cultivation of mystery and the

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McCobb. His tale the murders in the Rue Morgue, initiated the

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modern detective story, and the atmosphere in his tales of

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horror is unrivaled in American fiction. His The Raven numbers

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among the best known poems in the national literature, the

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raven is our first selection for this evening. So without further

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ado, the Raven. Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and

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weary, over many acquaints and curious volume of forgotten

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lore, while I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a

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tapping as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber

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door to some visitor, I muttered, tapping at my chamber

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door. Only this nothing more distinctly I remember it was in

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the bleak December and each separate dying Ember wrote its

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ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow vainly I had

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sought to borrow from my books or cease of sorrow, sorrow, for

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the lost Lenore. For the rare and radiants maiden on the

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angels name, Lenore, nameless here, forevermore. And the

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silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me,

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filled me with fantastic tears never felt before. So that now

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to steal the beating of my heart, I stood repeating to some

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visitor intriguing entrance of my chamber door, suddenly

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visitor and treating entrance at my chamber door. This it is

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nothing more. Presently my soldiers stronger hesitating

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then no longer, sir, said I, or madam, truly your forgiveness I

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implore but the fact is, I was napping so gently, you came

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wrapping and so you can tap tapping at my chamber door that

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I scarce was sure I heard you. Here. I opened wide the door,

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darkness there, and nothing more. deep into that darkness

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peering long I stood there wondering, fearing dreaming

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dreams, no mortal ever dared to dream before. But the silence

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was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, and the only word

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there spoken was the whispered word. And this I whispered, and

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an echo murmured back the word Lenovo nearly this nothing more.

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Back into the chamber turning all my soul within me burning

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soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

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Surely said hi. Surely that is something that my window lattice

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let me see them what they're at is and this mystery explorer.

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Let my heart be still a moment. And this mystery Explorer is the

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wind and nothing more. Open here I've long Miss shutter with many

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a flirt and flutter in there stepped a stately Raven. Of the

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saintly days of you're not the least of the sun's made he not a

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minute stopped or stayed here but with mine of Lord or Lady

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perched above my chamber door, perched upon a bust of palace

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just above my chamber door perched and sat and nothing

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more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into

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smiling, but the grave and stern decorum of the countenance at

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war, though they crest be shown and shaven now, I said, aren't

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sure no Craven, ghastly, grim and ancient Raven wandering from

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the knightly shore telling me what the Lord thy name is on

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this nice plutonium shore? Quote The Raven, Nevermore. Much I

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marveled this ungainly foul to hear discourse plainly, though

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its answer little meaning little relevancy bore. For we cannot

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help agreeing that no living human being ever yet was blessed

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with seeing bird above his chamber door, bird or beast upon

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the sculpted bust above his chamber door with such a name as

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never more. But the Raven sitting lonely on the blasted

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bust spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word

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he did outpour nothing further than he uttered, not a feather

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that he fluttered till I scarcely more than other other

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friends have flown before. And tomorrow he will leave me as my

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hopes as long before. Then the bird said, Nevermore. startled at the stillness broken

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by replies, so aptly spoken, darkness, said I wanted others

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is its only stocking store call it from someone happy master,

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who, when a merciful disaster followed fast and followed

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faster until his songs One burden bore till the dirt is of

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his hope, that melancholy burden more have never, never more. But

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the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling straight I

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wheeled a cushion seat in front of bird and bust and door. Then

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upon the velvet sinking, I took myself to linking fancy and to

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fancy thinking that this ominous bird of your what this grim,

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ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of your meant in

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croaking Nevermore. This I sat engaged in guessing but no

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syllable expressing to the foul was fiery eyes now burned into

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my bosoms core. This and more I sat divining, with my head at

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ease reclining on the cushions, velvet lining with the lamp

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light glow to door, but whose fill that violet lining with the

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lamp light gloating or she shall press? Ah, never more than me

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thought the air grew denser, perfumed by some unseen sensor

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swung by Sarafem, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted

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floor. Rach, I cried, that God has lent the by these angels he

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has sent the respite respite and independent

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D from my memories of Lenore cloth. Oh, Paul, this kind of

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the pet D and forget this last

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Lenore. quoth The Raven, Nevermore. Profit set up said I

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think of evil profit still if bird or devil whether temper

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cent or whether tempest tossed the here ashore desolate yo yet

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all undaunted on this desert land enchanted on this home by

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horror haunted telling me truly. I implore Is there is there boom

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in Gilead Tell me tell me I implore you quote the Raven.

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Nevermore. Prophet, said I, Dean of evil prophets still if bird

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or devil by that heaven that bends above us, by that God we

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both adore telling this soul with sorrow Layton within the

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distance Aidan it shall class if it shall class but saying to me

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whom the angels name Lenore Class A rare and radiant mating

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whom the angels name Lenore. With the Raven, Nevermore be

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that word or sign of parting bird or themed I shrieked up

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starting, get the back into the Tempest and the nights Plutonian

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shore leave no black plume as a token of that lie they sold it

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spoken. Leave my loneliness unbroken he quit the bust above

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my door, take thy beat from out my heart and take thy form from

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off my door with the Raven, Nevermore. And the Raven, never

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flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting on that pallet

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Buster Palace just above my chamber door. And his eyes have

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all the seeming of a demons that is dreaming, and the lamp light

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or him streaming throws his shadow on the floor and my soul

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from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be

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lifted Nevermore The Raven was first released 175 years ago as

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of last month. When the Raven was first released, it brought

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Poe tons of celebrity and recognition but no financial

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success. He's quoted as saying, I have made no money. I am as

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poor now as I ever was in my life except in hope, which is by

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no means bankable. Sounds like he's a podcaster. Our second

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selection will be the tale to the tell tale heart. The Tell

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Tale Heart was first published in 1843. And Paul was paid about

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$10 for it, which in today's dollars would be about 350.

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Without further ado, the telltale hearts true, nervous,

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very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am. But why will

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you say that I am mad. The disease had sharpened my senses,

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not destroyed, not dulled them. Above all, was the sense of

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hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven then in the

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earth. I heard many things in hell. How then, am I mad?

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hearken. And observe how healthily how calmly I can tell

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you the whole story is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain. But

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once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object. There was

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none. Passion, there was none. I loved the old man, for he had

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never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold, I

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had no desire. I think it was his eye. Yes, it was this. He

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had the eye of a vulture a pale blue eye with the film over it.

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Whenever it fell upon me by blood ran cold. And so by

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degrees very gradually, I made up my mind to take the life of

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the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever. Now, this is

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the points. You fancy me mad. Mad Men know nothing. But you

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should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded

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and with what caution with what four sites was what

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dissimulation I went to work. I was never kinder to the old man

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during the whole week before I killed him. Then every night,

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about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it.

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Oh so gently. And then, when I had made an opening sufficient

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for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed,

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that no light shone out. And then I thrust in my head. You

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would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in. I

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moved it slowly. There you very slowly so that I might not

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disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my

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whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he

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lie upon his bed. What a madman have been so wise is this. And

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then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern

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cautiously Oh, so cautiously cautiously, for the hinges

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creaked I undid it just so much that a single thin array fell

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upon the vulture i. And this I did for seven long nights every

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night, just at midnight. When I found the I always closed so it

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was impossible to do the work. For it was not the old man who

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vexed me but his evil eye. And every morning when the day

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broke, I went boldly into his chambers. Well courageously to

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him, calling him by name and a hearty tone and inquiring how he

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had passed the night. You see, he would have been a very

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profound old man indeed to suspect that every night just at

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12 I looked in upon him while he slept. Upon the eighth nights, I

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was more than usually cautious in opening the door of watches

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minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that

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night, had I felt the extent of my own powers of my sagacity. I

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could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph to think

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that they are I was opening the door little by little, and he

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not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly

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chuckled at the idea, and perhaps he heard me, for he

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moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. You may think that I

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drew back. But no. His room was this blackest pitch with a thick

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darkness, for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of

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robbers. And so I knew that he could not see the opening of the

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door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. I had my

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head in, and was about to open the lantern when my thumb

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slipped upon the fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed

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crying out who was there. I kept quiet and still and said

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nothing. For a whole hour, I did not move a muscle. And in the

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meantime, I did not hear him lie down.

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He was still sitting up in his bed listening, just as I have

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done night after night, hearkening to the death watches

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in the wall. Presently, I heard a slight groan, and I know it

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was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or

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grief. Oh no. It was the low stifled sound that arises from

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the bottom of a soul when overcharged with all I knew that

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sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world

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slept. It is welled up in my own bosom deepening, with its

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dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it's

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well. I knew what the old man felt, and pity them. Although I

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chuckled at heart, I knew that he had been lying awake ever

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since the first slight noise when he had turned in the bed.

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His fears had been ever since growing upon him he had been

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trying to fancy them causeless but could not. He had been

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saying to himself, it was nothing but a wind in the

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chimney or it was only a mouse crossing the floor, or it was

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merely a cricket that was made a single church. Yes, he had been

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trying to comfort himself with these suppositions but he was

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found all in vain. All in vain, because death, in approaching

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him, had stocked with his black shadow before him and enveloped

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the victim. And was the mournful influence of the unperceived

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shadow that caused him to feel, although he neither saw nor

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heard, to feel the presence of my head within the room. When I

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had waited a long time very patiently, without hearing him

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lie down, I resolved to open a little, a very, very little

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crevice in the lantern. So I opened it. You cannot imagine

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how stealthily, stealthily until, at length, a simple dim

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array, like the threat of a spider shot out from the crevice

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and fell upon the vulture, I. It was open, wide, wide open, and I

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grew furious As I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect

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distinctness all a dull blue with a hideous veil over it, and

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it chilled the very marrow in my bones. But I could see nothing

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else of the old man's face or person, for I had directed the

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array as if by instinct precisely upon the damned spot.

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And Have I not told you that what you mistake from madness is

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but an over acuteness of sensors. Now, I say, there came

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to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watchmaker when

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enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too, and was the

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beating of the old man's heart. It increased my theory, as the

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beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. But even

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yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathe. I held the

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lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the

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array upon the eye. Meantime, the hellish tattoo of the heart

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increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder

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with every instant the old man's terror must have been extreme.

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It grew louder and louder, louder every moment do you mark

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me? Well, then I have told you that I am nervous so I am. And

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now in the dead hour of nights amid the dreadful silence of the

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old house so strange noise as this excited me to

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uncontrollable terror. Yet for some minutes longer, I've

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refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder and

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louder. I thought the heart must burst. And now the new anxiety

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seized me. The sound would be heard by a neighbor. The old

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man's our had come with a loud yellow light through open the

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lantern and leapt into the room. He shrieked once only once, and

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in an instant I dragged him to the floor and pulled the heavy

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bed over him. I then smiled to Gailey to find the deed so far

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done, but for many minutes, the heartbeat on with a muffled

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sound. This, however, did not vex me. It would not be heard through

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the wall. At length, it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed

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the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone stone dead. I

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placed my hand upon the heart and held it there for many

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minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead, his eye would

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trouble me no more. If still you think me mad, he will think so

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no longer. When I described the wise precautions I took for the

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concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked

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hastily, but in silence. First of all, I dismembered the

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corpse. I cut off the head and arms and legs. I then took up

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three planks from the floor of the chamber, and deposited all

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between this gatlings. I then replaced the board so cleverly,

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cunningly, that no human is not even his could have detected

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anything was wrong. There was nothing to wash out no stain of

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any kind, no bloodspot whatever. I had been too weary for that.

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The tub had caught all. When I had made an end of these labors,

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it was four o'clock. Still dark is midnight. As the bell sounded

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the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down

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to open it with a light heart for what had I to fear now.

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They're entered three men, who introduced themselves with

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perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been

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heard by a neighbor during the night suspicion of foul play had

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been aroused information had been lodged at the police

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office, and they the officers, had been deputed to search the

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premises. I smile, for what had I to fear. I bade the gentleman

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welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man I

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mentioned was absent in the country. I took my visitors all

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over the house, I bade them search search well. I led them

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at length to his chamber. I showed them His treasures,

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secure, undisturbed, and the enthusiasm of my confidence I

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brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest

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from their fatigues, while I myself in the wild audacity of

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my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the various spots

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beneath which repurposed the corpse of the victim the

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officers were satisfied. My mana had convinced them I was

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singularly at ease. They sat while they sat and while I

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answered Surely they chattered with familiar matters. But ere

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long I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head

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ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears but still, they sat

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and chatted. The ringing became more distinct, it continued and

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became more distinct. I talked more freely to get rid of the

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feeling, but it continued and gain definiteness until at

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length, I found that the noise was not within my ears and now,

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I grew very pale, but I talked more fluently, and with a

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heightened voice yet the sound increased. And what could I do?

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It was a low dole quick sound much such a sound as a watch

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makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath, and yet the

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officers heard it not. I talked more quickly more vehemently,

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but the noise steadily increased. I arose I argued

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about trifles, and a high key with violent gesticulations but

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the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I

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paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides as the as if

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excited by the observations of the men, but the noise steadily

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increased. Oh, God, what could I do? I phoned I raved. I swore I

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swung the chair upon which I had been sitting and grated it up on the

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floorboards. But the noise arose above all, and continually

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increased. It grew louder and louder. And still the min

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chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not

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almighty God? No, no, they heard they suspected they knew. And

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they were making a mockery of my horror. This I thought in this I

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think, but anything would be better than this agony. Anything

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was more tolerable than this derision. I could bear those

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hypocritical smiles no longer I felt that I must scream or die

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and now again Hawk louder. Louder. Louder villains I

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streaked the symbol no more I admit the deed tear up the

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planks hair here it's the beating of this hideous art

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our last election for the evening will be Annabel Lee

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Annabel Lee was posed last completed poem Annabel Lee It

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was many and many a year ago in the kingdom by the sea that a

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maiden there lived um you may know by the name of Annabel Lee.

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And this maiden, she lived with no other thoughts than to love

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and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child in

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this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with the love that was

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more than love. I and my Annabelle the with the love that

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the wings sheriff's of Heaven coveted her and me. And this was

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the reason that long ago in this kingdom by the sea, a wind blew

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out of the cloud, chilling my beautiful Annabel Lee, so that

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her high born kinsmen came and bought her away from me to shut

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her up and separate occur, and this kingdom by the sea. The

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angels not have so happy in heaven went in being her and me.

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Yes, that was the reason as all men know in this kingdom by the

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sea, that the wind came out of a cloud by night. Chilling and

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killing My Annabel Lee but our love is stronger by far than the

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love of those who are older than we have many far wiser than me.

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And neither the angels in heaven above nor the demons down under

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the sea can ever discover my soul from the soul of the

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beautiful Annabel Lee. For the moon never beams without

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bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee. And the

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stars never rise. But I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful

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Annabel Lee. And so, all the night tide I lie down by the

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side of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride in the sub

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liquor there by the sea in her tomb by the sounding sea. The

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Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore, Maryland has

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identified 11 versions of Annabel Lee, that were published

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between 1849 and 1850. The biggest variation is in the

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final line. The original manuscript reads and her tomb by

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the side of the sea the alternate version in her tomb by

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the sounding see Well, that's all for this episode, folks. Our

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theme music is into the unknown by od Sprite, more of their

31:52

music can be found at odd sprite.com Mitas pod is released

31:55

under a Creative Commons Attribution non commercial no

31:58

derivatives license, that means you can share it all you like

32:00

just don't change it or sell it. And I'd like to say thank you to

32:03

all the folks here at World Travel beer and Goldsboro, North

32:05

Carolina for coming out and having a drink and watching me

32:08

talk to my computer. We'll see you next time folks. Have a good one.