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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 is it, 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 mortals 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 blest 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 further 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 lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls 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 in 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 lamplight 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!

  • Task 9.

Try to write a small passage trying to imitate some natural sounds or to create a certain phonetic effect.

Reference materials:

Galperin I. R. “Stylistics

Arnold I. V. “Стилистика современного английского языка”

Skrebnev Y. M. “Стилистика английского языка”

Lebedeva L.B. 10 Lectures in Style


1. Graphics as a kind of code. Linguistics vs. Extralinguistics.

2. Violation of spelling and punctuation.

3. Interrelation of types/prints.

4. Paragraph division.

5. Shape poems.

  • Task 1.

Study the information and explain the relevance of graphics in general stylistic analysis. Is graphics closer to stylistic devices or expressive means? Does it combine linguistic and extralinguistic components? Is it similar/different from the other above mentioned devices?

A literary work exists in a specific form unlike that of other fine arts. Marble or wood, from which a sculpture is made, is an inseparable part of its nature. A broken statue ceases to exist. The paper, on which a book is printed, does not influence its literary merits. It remains what it is - whether it is printed out or is read or is said and is heard. Nevertheless, as the perception of literary works descends predominantly through reading, instead of audition, their graphic design appears to be of great relevance. Not the format of the book or intelligibility of a font matters in this case, though it, certainly, too is important as a matter of convenience readings and general aesthetic impression, but the relationship of fonts, division into paragraphs and arrangement of lines, capitals, italic, punctuation marks.

The graphics represents the special system of signs and rules of their usage intended for the verbal report also suitable for visual perception while reading.

One of the characteristic features of poetry is that its aesthetic effect depends as much on its graphical arrangement as on the phonetic effects. The graphic form of a verse mirrors its frame and adjusts the reader to emotionality and expressiveness of the report. All these means are stylistically indispensable to render the meanings that in oral speech are transmitted by prosodic elements, stress, tone of a voice, prolongation of some notes etc.

  • Task 2.

Analyze the following cases of graphon, guess the dialect (e. g. Scottish, Irish, cockney…) and read the text aloud observing its phonetic peculiarities. Indicate the causes which produced the mispronunciation (or misinterpretation)

  • So ye have tae watch oot before ye call it love. It’s just another form ay entertainment. See if the feelings transfer tae yir everyday life, then call it love. Love’s no jist for weekenders.

  1. Welsh)

    • Э-я фа пасатыню удаляюсь

Ата прекарасаных седешенеха мест.

(И. Тургенев)

  • Oh, don’t pay no’tention to me. I jis studyin’ how simple you an’yo’ pa is. You is bof de simplest somebody I eva come’ crost.”

You got to say plumb out w’at you mean, Aunt Dice,” insisted the girl doggedly, suspicious and alert now.

Well, dat w’y I say you is simple,” proclaimed the woman, slamming down her iron on an inverted, battered pie pan, “jis like you says, dey gwine put yo’ pa’s picture yonda in de picture paper. An’ you know w’at readin’ dey gwine sot down on’neaf dat picture?” Martinette was intensly attentive. “Dey gwine sot down on’neaf: ‘Dis heah is one dem low-down’ Cajuns o’ Bayeh Teche!’”

All the blood flowed from Martinette’s face, leaving it deathly pale; in another instant it came beating back in a quick flood, and her eyes smarted with pain as if the tears that filled them had been fiery hot.

I knows dem kin o’folks,” continued Aunt Dicey, resuming her interrupted ironing. “Dat stranger he got a li’le boy w’at ain’t none too big to spank. Dat li’le imp he come a hoppin’ in heah yistiddy wid a kine o’box on’neaf his arm. He say’ ‘Good mo’nin, madam. Will you be so kine an’ stan’ jis like you is dah at yo’ i’onin’ , an’ lef me take yo’ picture?’ I’ lowed I gwine make a picture outen him wid dis heah flati’on, ef he don’ cl’ar hisse’f quick. An’ he say he baig my pardon fo’ his intrudement. All dat kine o’ talk to a ole nigga’ oman! Dat plainly sho’ he don’ know his place. ”

(K. Chopin)

  • THE FLOWER GIRL. Ow, eez ye-ooa san, is e? Wal, fewd dan y' de-ooty bawmz a mather should, eed now bettern to spawl a pore gel's flahrzn than ran awy athaht pyin. Will ye-oo py me f'them? [Here, with apologies, this desperate attempt to represent her dialect without a phonetic alphabet must be abandoned as unintelligible outside London.]

(B. Shaw)

  • THE FLOWER GIRL [springing up terrified] I aint done nothing wrong by speaking to the gentleman. Ive a right to sell flowers if I keep off the kerb. [Hysterically] I'm a respectable girl: so help me, I never spoke to him except to ask him to buy a flower off me. [General hubbub, mostly sympathetic to the flower girl, but deprecating her excessive sensibility. Cries of Dont start hollerin. Whos hurting you? Nobody's going to touch you. Whats the good of fussing? Steady on. Easy, easy, etc., come from the elderly staid spectators, who pat her comfortingly. Less patient ones bid her shut her head, or ask her roughly what is wrong with her. A remoter group, not knowing what the matter is, crowd in and increase the noise with question and answer: Whats the row? What she do? Where is he? A tec taking her down. What! him? Yes: him over there: Took money off the gentleman, etc. The flower girl, distraught and mobbed, breaks through them to the gentleman, crying wildly] Oh, sir, dont let him charge me. You dunno what it means to me. Theyll take away my character and drive me on the streets for speaking to gentlemen. They—

(B. Shaw)

  • Task 3.

Rewrite the above given abstracts, keeping to Standard English. Explain what kind of changes, except spelling, you had to introduce.

  • Task 4.

Graphical expressive means can render some paralinguistic speech components, which accompany real communicative situation. How would you transfer punctuation marks in a real talk?

  1. by intonation;

  2. by gestures;

  3. by facial expression;

  4. by interjections;

  5. by pause fillers (er, well, so…);

  • “We might go in your umbrella”, said Pooh.


“We might go in your umbrella”, said Pooh.


“We might go in your umbrella”, said Pooh.


(A.A. Milne)

  • And running along, and thinking how pleased Eeyore would be, he didn’t look where he was going… and suddenly he put his foot in a rabbit hole, and fell down flat on his face.


Piglet lay there, wondering what had happened.

(A.A. Milne)

  • Glances and recollections, letters of sorts

is what we get from each other. Rose called.

I had forgotten. Well, no I hadn’t. I’d stopped.

expecting. We learn. Not much. Not finally.

(W. Bronk)

  • …because you were the vehicle whereby it was boldly imposed upon the cold night sky. I have never known pain so ungainsayable. I beg you, What - ?

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