Charizard Morph
has doomed us all.
This is a repurt i wrote for english class. It's probably crap compared to anything else i've wrotten, but that's what you get when you procrsstinate untill 11:00 at night. Any and All rwviews would be nice, if you'd like to know my sources just ask, i'm too tired to put them up right now. I hope you enjaye reeding it. Whatever. I'm going to bed.
Edgar A. Poe
A report by:
Charizard Morph
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over a many quaint and curios volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“ ‘Tis some late visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door
Only this and nothing more.”
Edgar Allan Poe, one of the greatest literary masters of his time, remains as one the most amazing and inspirational human beings that this world has ever encountered. What I will write in this report doesn’t even begin to cover his amazing, although sad, life. Of course, there isn’t any way that anyone could ever include the whole of his life in any written work, so I will focus on the main parts of his life, and his life will be given to paper once again.
Edgar Poe was born in Boston on January nineteenth, 1809, he had two siblings, a sister named Rosalie, and a brother named William. Both of his parents were actors and died when he was young, Edgar and Rosalie were adopted by John Allan, a merchant in Richmond. Edgars brother went to live with his grandparents. When Edgar was six Johns business took him to Europe, where Edgar saw Scotland and spent five years studying in England.
In 1826 Edgar attended the university of Virginia, but was expelled in 1827 because of gambling debts. Later that year he joined the army, using the name Edgar A. Perry, and was later dishonorably discharged for intentionally neglecting his duties. In 1833 Poe won a prize of fifty dollars from the Baltimore Saturday Visitor in a short story contest, in which he entered ‘the manuscript found In a bottle.’ At this time he was living with his aunt, Maria Clemm.
One of the judges helped Poe financially by securing a place for him as an editor in the Southern Literary Messenger, a job that Poe began in the summer of 1835. In October he was able to afford a residence and brought Mrs. Clemm and his cousin Virginia to Richmond. His letter to them tells how much he loved Virginia and how lonely he felt without her. A marriage license was issued on September twenty-second, 1835, but the ceremony was not held until May sixteenth, 1836.
While Poe was the editor of the messenger he brought the circulation of the magazine up from five hundred copies to thirty-five hundred, but in January ceased to be the editor. In 1838 Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym was published, the descriptions seemed so real that in England it was treated as a true story. In 1841 The Murders in the Rue Morgue, the first of his detective stories, was published.
In 1842 Poes wife, Virginia, broke a blood vessel. In 1843, during spring, the family moved into a cottage, where he wrote what he hoped would be the first of a series containing reprints of his tales. This only sold for 12 ½ cents, however, and was the last of that series. On January twenty-ninth 1845 The Raven appeared in The New York Mirror. In November of 1845, The Raven and other Poems, the last collected works of his poetry to be published under his own editorial care, was published.
January thirteenth, 1847, Virginia, only twenty-four years old, died from tuberculosis. After her death Poe suffered from madness, and in 1848 attempted to kill himself. Edgar Allan Poe was found laying in a gutter and was taken to a hospital on October third, 1849. Four days later he died, no one is sure of what, though. He never gained consciousness enough to tell the doctor what had brought him to that state.
His obituary, written by Rufus Wilmot Griswold, who was a literary rival of Poe, was published in The New York Tribune on October ninth, and read:
“Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore the day before yesterday. This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The poet was known personally or by reputation, in all this country; he had readers in England, and in several of the states of continental Europe; but he had few or no friends; and the regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the consideration that in him literary art has lost one of its most brilliant but erratic stars.”
Yes, Edgar Allan Poe no longer alive, but as long as people read his works he will never die.
Edgar A. Poe
A report by:
Charizard Morph
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over a many quaint and curios volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“ ‘Tis some late visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door
Only this and nothing more.”
Edgar Allan Poe, one of the greatest literary masters of his time, remains as one the most amazing and inspirational human beings that this world has ever encountered. What I will write in this report doesn’t even begin to cover his amazing, although sad, life. Of course, there isn’t any way that anyone could ever include the whole of his life in any written work, so I will focus on the main parts of his life, and his life will be given to paper once again.
Edgar Poe was born in Boston on January nineteenth, 1809, he had two siblings, a sister named Rosalie, and a brother named William. Both of his parents were actors and died when he was young, Edgar and Rosalie were adopted by John Allan, a merchant in Richmond. Edgars brother went to live with his grandparents. When Edgar was six Johns business took him to Europe, where Edgar saw Scotland and spent five years studying in England.
In 1826 Edgar attended the university of Virginia, but was expelled in 1827 because of gambling debts. Later that year he joined the army, using the name Edgar A. Perry, and was later dishonorably discharged for intentionally neglecting his duties. In 1833 Poe won a prize of fifty dollars from the Baltimore Saturday Visitor in a short story contest, in which he entered ‘the manuscript found In a bottle.’ At this time he was living with his aunt, Maria Clemm.
One of the judges helped Poe financially by securing a place for him as an editor in the Southern Literary Messenger, a job that Poe began in the summer of 1835. In October he was able to afford a residence and brought Mrs. Clemm and his cousin Virginia to Richmond. His letter to them tells how much he loved Virginia and how lonely he felt without her. A marriage license was issued on September twenty-second, 1835, but the ceremony was not held until May sixteenth, 1836.
While Poe was the editor of the messenger he brought the circulation of the magazine up from five hundred copies to thirty-five hundred, but in January ceased to be the editor. In 1838 Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym was published, the descriptions seemed so real that in England it was treated as a true story. In 1841 The Murders in the Rue Morgue, the first of his detective stories, was published.
In 1842 Poes wife, Virginia, broke a blood vessel. In 1843, during spring, the family moved into a cottage, where he wrote what he hoped would be the first of a series containing reprints of his tales. This only sold for 12 ½ cents, however, and was the last of that series. On January twenty-ninth 1845 The Raven appeared in The New York Mirror. In November of 1845, The Raven and other Poems, the last collected works of his poetry to be published under his own editorial care, was published.
January thirteenth, 1847, Virginia, only twenty-four years old, died from tuberculosis. After her death Poe suffered from madness, and in 1848 attempted to kill himself. Edgar Allan Poe was found laying in a gutter and was taken to a hospital on October third, 1849. Four days later he died, no one is sure of what, though. He never gained consciousness enough to tell the doctor what had brought him to that state.
His obituary, written by Rufus Wilmot Griswold, who was a literary rival of Poe, was published in The New York Tribune on October ninth, and read:
“Edgar Allan Poe is dead. He died in Baltimore the day before yesterday. This announcement will startle many, but few will be grieved by it. The poet was known personally or by reputation, in all this country; he had readers in England, and in several of the states of continental Europe; but he had few or no friends; and the regrets for his death will be suggested principally by the consideration that in him literary art has lost one of its most brilliant but erratic stars.”
Yes, Edgar Allan Poe no longer alive, but as long as people read his works he will never die.
