Page 46 - Four Famous American Writers: Washington Irving, Edgar Allan Poe, James Russell Lowell, Bayard Taylor

imagine my mortification in making this disclosure to you, but it is
necessary."

Mr. Kennedy did all that a friend could do for the future poet and

story-writer. Says Poe: "He has been at all times a true friend to me--he was
the first true friend I ever had--I am indebted to him for life itself.."

Poe now contributed regularly to the _Saturday Visiter,_ its young editor,
Lambert A. Wilmer, becoming his friend and constant companion. It is said

that at this time he dressed very neatly, though inexpensively, "wore Byron
collars and a black stock, and looked the poet all over."

CHAPTER VII

POE’S EARLY POETRY

We have seen how persistently Poe clung to his poetry. Three times he
published the little volume of his verses, revising, enlarging, and
strengthening. In those days there was no market for poetic writing, and as

Poe wrote in a strange, weird style, it is not remarkable that no one took
any notice of the contents of his little volumes. It was his own opinion,

however, that these early poems contained more real poetic imagination
than his later successes, and it is perhaps as well that we should begin our
study of Poe with some of the first fruits of his genius.

First let us read that most pathetic of autobiographical poems, "Alone."

With strange sincerity and directness the poet tells us how his spirit grew
and learned the burden of its melancholy, yet scintillating song:

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 loved, I loved alone. Then--in my
childhood--in the dawn Of a most stormy life was drawn