:Lost love: the most haunting and melancholic love; perceived and penned down by a single author;Edgar Allan Poe. Edgar Allan Poe, one the greatest and unhappiest of American poets, a master of the horrortale and dark poems, and the patron saint of the detective story, the genius who mines his own troubled lifeand pours his inner self into his works, creating as he himself is consumed like a: A Great Man Self-wrecked.His life was difficult. He was poor, and he was troubled by sicknesses of the body and mind. Poe sufferedfrom depression. He feared he was insane. He drank alcohol to escape his fears. The alcohol had a very badeffect on him. Through all his crises, Edgar Allan Poe produced many stories, poems, and worksof criticism. The relationships between Poe and the women in his life were disastrous at worst, yet theyprovided inspiration and stimulus for some of the finest dark romantic poems of the early 19
century. Hisliterary works’ nightmarish vision echoed his real-life tragedies. The following is a sequence of his poems,conveying a single subject, Poe's favorite, which he called "the most poetical topic in the world"- death of abeautiful woman. The first poem, Annabelle Lee, tells about a strong and ideal love-he but not only love, but worshipsher.
It was many and many a year ago,In a kingdom by the sea,That a maiden there lived whom you may knowBy the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.I was a child and she was a child,In this kingdom by the sea:But we loved with a love that was more than love —I and my Annabel Lee;With a love that the winged seraphs of heavenCoveted her and me. And this was the reason that, long ago,In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chillingMy beautiful Annabel Lee;So that her highborn kinsmen cameAnd bore her away from me,To shut her up in a sepulchreIn this kingdom by the sea.The angels, not half so happy in heaven,Went envying her and me —Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,In this kingdom by the sea)That the wind came out of the cloud by night,Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.But our love it was stronger by far than the loveOf those who were older than we — Of many far wiser than we — And neither the angels in heaven above,Nor the demons down under the sea,Can ever dissever my soul from the soulOf the beautiful Annabel Lee:For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreamsOf the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyesOf the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the sideOf my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,In her sepulchre there by the sea,In her tomb by the sounding sea.
In the second poem, Lenore, tells not to mourn in the wake of the death of the beautiful youngwoman but to celebrate her ascension to a new world; and his anticipation to meet her again in paradise.
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! the spirit flown forever!Let the bell toll!- a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy de Vere, hast thou no tear?- weep now or nevermore!See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore!Come! let the burial rite be read- the funeral song be sung!- An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young- A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young."Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her- that she died!How shall the ritual, then, be read?- the requiem how be sungBy you- by yours, the evil eye,- by yours, the slanderous tongueThat did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"