Hear the tributes paid to Poe!
(Might he know!)
What a world of immortality his celebrants bestow!
Hear the speakers clear their throats
And consult their little notes!
Hear them laud him to the skies!
How they prize, prize, prize
All he wrote;
How they dote
On his “Raven” and his “Bells”;
How they quote
“Ulalume” and all the rest
Of his verseAnd rehearse
His catalogue of triumphs with a breast
Praising Poe, Poe, Poe, Poe,
Poe, Poe, Poe,
Their thrice-inspired Poe,
The only son of genius that we ever had, you know!
So it’s natural to blow
The trumpet blast of Poe,
Of Poe, Poe, Poe, Poe,
Poe, Poe, Poe!--
For perhaps ten days or so,
Of emotion and commotion over Poe!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The following lines were written by an anonymous wit in 1909. The writer was having a bit of fun with the various events held for the Poe Centennial, but it's worth reviving today.