Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe

 byTimothy Thomas Fortune

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

In some way, be because he was a child

Of the fierce sun where I first wept and smiled—

I love the dark-browed Poe. His feverish day

Was spent in dreams inspired, that him beguiled,

When not along his path shone forth one ray

Of light, of hope, to guide him on the way,

That to earth’s cares he might be reconciled.

Not one of all Columbia’s tuneful choir

Has pitched his notes to such a matchless key

As Poe—the wizard of the Orphic lyre!

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

   Who, like an echo came, an echo went,

   Singing, back to his mother element.