October 7, 1849 is the day Edgar Allan Poe died. He spent the last four days of his life incoherent in a Baltimore hospital, having been found insensible on October 3. A great deal has been made of the mystery of how he died. And even more rumor has been passed along as fact.
Poe has become a mythical figure in American history. His work is constantly republished, adapted and performed. There are lunch boxes, toys and air fresheners with his likeness on them. There is a NFL team named after one of his poems.
Evening Star by EDGAR ALLAN POE ‘Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro’ the light Of the brighter, cold moon, ‘Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me-…
This book was terrifying. Delightfully so. McMahon’s atmospheric writing is so chilling. She uses cold, solid words to evoke the sense of bleakness and ruthlessness of a New England winter.
Here is a lesser known poem by the master of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe. Spirits of the Dead BY EDGAR ALLAN POE I Thy soul shall find itself alone ’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone— Not one, of all the crowd, to pry Into thine hour of secrecy. II Be silent in that…