I read a tale by E.A. Poe.
It filled my heart and mind with woe:
“How awful ,dreary, dreadful, dry!
It’s quite enough to make one cry!”
But still we read him, and admire
The skill that lights that lightless fire.
I read a tale of deserts dry
Baked hard by Helios’ focused fire:
A scene to fill a heart with woe.
I read a line, began to cry,
And yet, as ever to admire
The wondrous skill of Mr. Poe.
I read about a world on fire
As told to us by Edgar Poe
And did not feel as I would cry-
In fact, my tired eyes were dry
Despite this weary world of woe,
So him I honor and admire.
Indeed, his work we all admire.
It teaches us to face the fire
And look upon with countenance dry
The sights that used to make us cry,
To struggle on come weal, come woe-
Because of Edgar Allan Poe.