Edgar Allan Poe

About Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was an American writer, editor, and literary critic. Poe is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. He is widely regarded as a central figure of Romanticism in the United States and as a central figure in American literature as a whole. Poe is generally considered the inventor of the detective fiction genre and is further credited with contributing to the emerging genre of science fiction. He was the first well-known American writer to try to earn a living through writing alone, resulting in a financially difficult life and career. His most famous works include the short stories "The Tell-Tale Heart," The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," and "Ligeia," and the poems "The Raven," "The Conqueror Worm," "Annabel Lee," and "The Bells."

“Epigram for Wall Street”

By |2020-05-27T01:21:41-05:00May 26th, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

I’ll tell you a plan for gaining wealth, Better than banking, trade or leases— Take a bank note and fold it up, And then you will find your money in creases! This wonderful plan, without danger or loss, Keeps your cash in your hands, where nothing can trouble it; And every time that you fold [...]

“May Queen Ode”

By |2020-05-19T15:14:27-05:00May 19th, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

Fairies guard the Queen of May, Let her reign in Peace and Honor — Every blessing be upon her; May her future pathway lie, All beneath a smiling sky Note on this work from The Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore: This charming fragment is all that has reached us of a poem Poe composed [...]

“The Sphinx”

By |2020-05-13T16:44:54-05:00May 13th, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Literature|

Near the close of an exceedingly warm day, I was sitting, book in hand, at an open window. Uplifting my eyes from the page, they fell upon the naked face of the hill, and upon an object—upon some living monster of hideous conformation, which very rapidly made its way from the summit to the bottom, [...]

“To My Mother”

By |2020-05-10T14:37:18-05:00May 10th, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, ⁠The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, ⁠None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called you— ⁠You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed [...]

“The Man of the Crowd”

By |2020-05-02T02:44:56-05:00May 1st, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Literature|

Ce grand malheur, de ne pouvoir être seul. -La Bruyère It was well said of a certain German book that "es lasst sich nicht lesen"—it does not permit itself to be read. There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, [...]

“The Murders in the Rue Morgue”

By |2020-04-25T04:48:41-05:00April 24th, 2020|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Literature|

Between ingenuity and the analytic ability there exists a difference far greater, indeed, than that between the fancy and the imagination, but of a character very strictly analogous. It will found, in fact, that the ingenious are always fanciful, and the truly imaginative never otherwise than analytic. What song the Syrens sang, or what name [...]

“Spirits of the Dead”

By |2020-03-10T11:37:48-05:00March 10th, 2020|Categories: Death, Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

1 Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone — Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy: 2 Be silent in that solitude ⁠Which is not loneliness—for then The spirits of the dead who stood ⁠In life before thee are again In death around [...]

“The Masque of the Red Death”

By |2020-03-13T01:01:28-05:00March 5th, 2020|Categories: Death, Edgar Allan Poe, Literature|

The red death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the madness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body [...]

“Hymn” to the Mother of God

By |2019-12-07T20:53:29-06:00December 7th, 2019|Categories: Christianity, Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

Edgar Allan Poe's "Hymn" appeared in The Raven and Other Poems (1845). Poe revised it slightly from a version he used in his short story, "Morella." He originally titled the work, "Catholic Hymn," but crossed out "Catholic" in a copy of the collection he sent to a friend. It is said that Poe wrote the [...]

“Annabel Lee”

By |2020-04-13T17:36:40-05:00February 14th, 2019|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, [...]

“To Helen”

By |2019-01-04T11:16:43-06:00January 4th, 2019|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And [...]

“The Bells”

By |2018-12-08T01:31:03-06:00December 9th, 2018|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

I. Hear the sledges with the bells— Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the [...]

“Alone”

By |2018-11-20T14:30:38-06:00November 18th, 2018|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the [...]

“Lines on Ale”

By |2020-05-09T02:31:13-05:00October 7th, 2018|Categories: Edgar Allan Poe, Poetry|

Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain — Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies Come to life and fade away; What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today. The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion [...]