Edgar Allan Poe

(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)

Comments about Edgar Allan Poe

  • Rookie Cookie Crenshaw (12/4/2013 12:19:00 PM)

    Edgar Allan Poe helped me realise that not everything is good or bad... It's just a dream within a dream... I love his poems, stories, and the man himself...

    116 person liked.
    85 person did not like.
  • Rookie Nanette Russo (11/15/2013 9:48:00 AM)

    My favorite poem of Edgar Allan Poe is The Raven.

  • Rookie Andres Sanchez (10/9/2013 3:18:00 PM)

    Very good poet who has a dark tone to his poems and who has a good poetic sense and to the people whom disliked him BIG MISTAKE

  • Rookie Amanda Marie (9/23/2013 8:13:00 PM)

    He is my all time favorite poet! If I am sad or upset about something I automatically turn to one of his amazing poems and feel better. I wish he was still alive so I could meet him

  • Rookie Donna Clements (9/23/2013 1:22:00 PM)

    Edgar Allan Poe was a man before his time. His poetry, his writings and his life proved this to be true. Edgar may the ravens fake flight over your grave of dirt for your names sake. See you in the darkness.

  • Rookie - 0 Points Joaquin Santana (9/11/2013 12:32:00 AM)

    I was in either 2nd or 3rd grade when my teacher first introduced my class to the Library. The Librarian told us to all sit around her as she read The Pit and the Pendulum to us. It was so suspenseful that, from that day on, Poe became my favorite poet.

  • Rookie - 214 Points p.a. noushad (9/7/2013 12:09:00 AM)

    Dear Edgar Allan Poe, I like your verses very much.

  • Rookie Vineet Chhikara (5/27/2013 1:39:00 AM)

    Have a look at my poems... and rate them... i am sure you will like them.... :)

  • Rookie Lizzie Nelson (4/30/2013 7:40:00 AM)

    he is a really really good poet!

  • Rookie Chris Bellen (2/13/2013 8:05:00 AM)

    they do not have to rhyme to be poetry poetry is the heart real life live feelings dreams where u get your swagger again please do tell rap

To Helen - 1848

I saw thee once- once only- years ago:
I must not say how many- but not many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven,
There fell a silvery-silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber,
Upon the upturned faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,

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