Edgar Allen Poe

Edgar Allen Poe

I know not why, but it is true - it may,

In some way, be because he was a child

Of the fierce sun 'neath which I wept and smiled -

I love the dark browed Poe. His too short day

Was lived in dreams, in dreams that him beguiled.

When not along his path shone forth one ray
Of cheerful light to guide him on the way.

That to earth's care he might be reconciled!

Not one of all Columbia's tuneful choir

Has pitched his notes to such a lofty key

    As Poe - the Byron of the occident!

Not one has dreamed, has sung such songs as he,

Who as a shadow came, a shadow went,

Singing, lark-like, as he soared, higher and higher.

T. Thomas Fortune

4:40, p. 2

1891.06.27

From the Journalist