Edgar Allan Poe

“Alone”

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...

“Lines on Ale”

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.

Edgar Allan Poe’s Literary War

In his lifetime, Edgar Allan Poe’s renown lay primarily in his reputation as the foremost critic of the day. As a critic, he complained that four or five cliques controlled American literature by controlling the larger portion of the critical journals...

“Ligeia”

Editor's Note: The following film is a 13-minute adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's short story, "Ligeia." As the creators of this film write: The short story, “Ligeia,” by Edgar Allan Poe, suggests that not only is life sustainable through the power of one's will, but a strong...

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Black Cat”: The Fear of the Unknown

“The Black Cat” is a story that collapses in despair over the primal terror of mindless tragedy—which is precisely what makes it a devilishly good read... Even as nature falls asleep under the fiery spell of autumn,...

The Raven

  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,”...

The City of Sin

LO! Death hath rear'd himself a throne In a strange city, all alone, Far down within the dim west — Where the good, and the bad, and the worst, and the best, Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines, and palaces, and...

“The Murders in the Rue Morgue” & Other Tales by Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was missing. The year was 1849. There had been no trace of Mr. Poe for six days since he left Richmond, Virginia, on September 27th to...

The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour

The happiest day—the happiest hour My seared and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power! said I? yes! such I ween; But they have vanish'd long, alas! The visions of my youth have been— But let them...

A Dream within a Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow— You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In...

Poe, Dickens, Ravens, and the Madness of Nevermore

There is something of the madman in every man. There is something of the sadist in every sinner. Is there something of ecstasy in every elegy? So it was with Edgar Allan Poe—and he called it Beauty.

To The River

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow Of crystal, wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow Of beauty, the unhidden heart, The playful maziness of art In old Alberto's daughter; But when within thy wave she looks, Which glistens then, and trembles, Why, then,...