Edgar Allan Poe
(1809-1849)

He was born in Boston Massachusetts 1809, lost not only his mother, but his first wife and adopted mother as well to tuberculosis. His mother's name was Elizabeth Hopkins Poe, his father's, David Poe Jr. His siblings all either went insane or died young.
He was a master of grotesque works, stories that not only twisted the mind, but made the author think and relate his work to their lives. I hope you enjoy this tribute to one of the greatest dark romanticism authors ever.

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These trifles are collected and republished chiefly with a view to their redemption from the many improvements to which they have been subjected while going at random 'the rounds of the press'. I am naturally anxious that what I have written should circulate as I wrote it, if it circulates at all. In defense of my own taste, nevertheless, it is incumbent upon me to say that I think nothing in this volume of much value to the public, or very creditable to myself. Events not to be controlled have prevented me from making, at any time, any serious effort in what, under happier circumstances, would have been the field of my choice. With me poetry has been not a purpose, but a passion; and the passions should be held in reverence. They must not - they cannot at will be excited, with an eye to the paltry compensations, or the more paltry commendations of mankind. E.A.P.