Gauls upon approaching the Roman Senate, as if in a collec-
tion of divinities, and that, with infinite satisfaction, I could
spend an eternity in such company.
POETRY ABOUT POE
POETRY ABOUT POE CULM INATING IN A M EETING
BETW EEN H. P . LOVECRAFT
AND EDGAR ALLAN POE
H . P. L o v ecra ft’s earlier w orks w ere m o st p o w erfu lly in flu en ced by
rea d in g o f P oe. R esid in g m ost o f his life in P ro v id en ce, R h od e Islan
L o v ecra ft freq u en tly v isite d th e P o e landm arks th at w ere to b e foui
there.
T h o u g h b y nature so m ew h a t o f a reclu se, H . P. L ovecraft w as me
ex p an sive in corresp on d en ce and bu ilt u p a w id e group o f friends wi
related interests, w h o som etim es v isited h im w h e n in th e area
P rovid en ce. It w as o n A u g u st 7 , 1936, th at H . P. L o v ecra ft pa
h ost to tw o such gu ests: R. H . B arlow , a very clo se frien d and yout
fu l a co ly te o f his w orks, w h o w rote o cca sion ally for th e am ate
m agazin es; and A d o lp h e d e C astro, a confidant o f A m brose Bier(
w h o collab orated w ith th at b a rb ed -to n g u e ico n o cla st on “T h e M o
and th e H angm an's D a u g h ter” and h ad p u b lish e d in L ovecraft’s prir
m arket, W eird Tales, tw o stories th at b le n d e d scien ce w ith sup<
natural horror in th e fash ion o f L ovecraft.
T o clim ax th e e v e n in g , th e th ree repaired to St. John’s C hurchyai
athw art th e form er h om e o f Sarah H e le n W h itm an —w h o m E dg
A llan P o e cou rted in 1 8 4 7 an d 1 8 4 8 —and am on g w h o se h ead stor
h e w a s said to h a v e freq u en tly strolled in m ed ita tio n an d contei
p lation.
T h e three sat d o w n o n a tom b in th e graveyard an d ea ch w rote
rh ym ed acrostic to th e m em ory o f E d gar A llan P o e. W ith u n g e n t
m an ly h aste, A d o lp h e d e C astro sen t his p o em off to W eird TaU
w h ere it w a s a c c e p te d an d p u b lish e d in th e M ay 1 9 3 7 issu e. H .
L ovecraft and R. H . B arlow also d isp a tch ed th eir son nets to W ei
Tales, but h ad them returned b ecau se o f d e Castro’s priority. Prom
su bm ission o f th ese p o em s to th e Science-Fantasy Correspondent,
h a n d so m ely p rinted scien ce fiction fan m a g a zin e o f th e d ay, result׳
in th e p u b lication o f th e R. H . B arlow an d H . P. L ovecraft verses in
M a rch -A p ril 1 9 3 7 issue, a ctu ally b eatin g d e C astro in to print. Aft
L o v ecra ft’s d eath , W eird Tales reprinted his p o em in their M ay 19;
num ber.
C on sidering that all three p ie c e s w ere h astily im p rovised in rath
p oor ligh t, th e y are rem arkably c o m p e ten t efforts. Q u ite evid en l
2 3 4
THE M A N WHO CALLED HIMSELF POE
in sp ired b y th e c o n c e p t o f H . P. L o v ecra ft co m m u n ica tin g w ith P o e
th rou gh th e d e v ic e o f p hrasin g lin es in sp ired b y th e esse n c e o f h is
spirit in an o ld P ro v id en ce graveyard, A u g u st W . D e r le th , in a v ery
su ccessfu l d ia lo g u e in verse, “P rovid en ce: T w o G en tlem e n M e e t at
M id n ig h t,” p u b lish e d in th e A u tu m n 1 9 4 8 Arkham Sampler, arranges
a m e etin g b e tw e e n th e tw o , stressin g th eir p o in ts o f affinity.
EDGAR ALLAN POE
(An acrostic sonnet, written in a sequestered graveyard
where once Poe walked.)
By Adolphe de Castro
E n sh rin ed w ith in our hearts is e ’er th y n am e,
D e a r B ard, u njoyed b y lastin g h ap p in ess
G reat lo v e d o th y ield ; b u t th rou gh th y p ain and stress
A m essen g er, th e g h o stly R aven , co m es,
R ev e a lin g horror stark and cold; h e bore
A tear th a t flow ed from ey es o f lo st L en ore,
L ig h t-g lin tin g , an d th e sh ad e o f her caress.
L o, th en , th y gen iu s flam ed w ith art th at chills
A grim , u b iq u itou s m align ity.
N ig h t-g lo o m e d and p u lsin g w ith p o rten d in g ills
P ernicious y e t d elig h tfu l, b rou gh t to th e e
O n a n g el’s w in g s, a g ift th at, lo v ed and feared ,
E nranked th e e g reatest m onarch o f th e w eird .
s t . J o h n ’s c h u r c h y a r d
By R. H. Barlow
E n d less, th e darkly p rin ted tom b ston es rise;
D im e v e n in g su n set pours ab out th em n o w ,
G o ld en and p a le , on p ath and grave and b o u g h ,
A n d fu rtiv ely th e y stare w ith lifeless e y e s,
R em em b erin g a g es lost b en ea th th e years,
A ll silen t n o w , w ith strife an d lo v e an d tears
L ike scattered lea v es throu gh w h ic h th e autum n sighs.
L ess than th e lea v es a century can grow
A s tale and m em ory b le n d b efore th e gaze;
N o lon ger lost, th ese h alf-forgotten days . . .
Perhaps th e sh adow s stir, p erh ap s th e y sh o w
O u tcast b y life an d d eath , th e lo n ely form
E x iled , o f P o e, th e m an o f n ig h t and storm .
IN A SEQUESTERED CHURCHYARD WHERE ONCE POE WALKED
By H. P. Lovecraft
E tern al brood th e sh ad ow s on this ground,
D re a m in g o f centuries th a t h a v e g o n e before;
G reat elm s rise so lem n ly b y slab an d m ou n d ,
A rch'd h ig h a b o v e a h id d en w orld o f yore.
R ou n d all th e scen e a lig h t of m em ory p lays,
A n d d ea d lea v es w h isp er of d ep a rted d ays,
L o n g in g for sights an d sounds th at are n o m ore.
L o n e ly and sad, a sp ecter glid es alon g
A isles w h ere o f old his liv in g fo o tstep s fell;
N o com m on g la n ce discerns h im , th ou gh his son g
P eals d o w n th rou gh tim e w ith a m ysterious spell.
O n ly th e fe w w h o sorcery’s secret k n ew ,
E sp y am idst th e se tom bs th e sh a d e o f P oe.
PROVIDENCE: TWO GENTLEMEN MEET AT MIDNIGHT
By August W. Derleth
H .P .L .: G ood ev e n in g , sir. W e m e e t at last
alon g th ese streets b o th y o u and I h a v e o fte n p assed .
E .A .P .: In d e e d , w e are n o t strangers, y o u an d I,
for all th e m an y tim es y o u p a ssed m e b y
w h ile y o u w ere still o n th at m aterial p lan e
and p erviou s to co ld and w in d and rain.
I u sed to se e y o u w h e n y o u w a lk ed
p a st H e le n ’s h om e, and on e e v e n in g w h e n y o u ta lk ed
till alm ost d a w n w ith friends u p o n th e ston es
that m ark m ore th an a cen tu ry o f b on es,
and w rote som e verses w ith g e n te e l co m ed y an d som e ad o—
an acrostic, if I recall, a p o em or tw o ,
o f w h ich , sir—m y resp ects—yours w as q u ite th e b est.
O f your noctu rnal w an d erin gs, th a t e v e n in g m arked a crest.
H .P .L .: Yes, I rem em b er it—w e celeb ra ted o n e
w h o w e n t b efore, w h o se e m e d o f n ig h t rather th an th e sun.
E .A .P .: It is q u ite true th at I
preferred th e n ig h t o w l’s cry
to d a y ’s round. B u t this lea n in g tow ard th e m
id n ig h t air,
m y friend, m ethin ks w e share.
H .P .L .: T h e n ig h t, sir, d oes for P ro v id en ce an d all th in gs old
so m eth in g th at takes from th em th e ch illin g co ld
o f n ew n ess an d th e marks o f w h a t som e poor, b e n ig h te d m en
in clin e to ca llin g progress. T h e n ,
too, there w a s for m e th e k n o w le d g e in this p la ce
y o u w o u ld n ot ch oose a su nlit hour to sh o w your fa ce.
E .A .P .: T rue, th ere are som e p laces th at I w o u ld n ot g o —
and th e y gro w m ore in num ber; o n e year it is Brick R o w
to m d o w n , an d o n another a h o u se I k n ew ,
b u t there rem ain to such as us a fe w ,
as a lw a y s—H e le n ’s h om e, and others on o ld P rosp ect Street,
THE M A N WHO CALLED HIMSELF POE
239
B en efit an d C o lle g e H ill—th e se b y w a y s k n e w m y fe e t
lo n g ago, as o n ce I k n e w fam iliar w a lls and floors
lo n g sin c e aw ay. Y ou, too, p a u se at o n c e k n ow n doors;
th ere w a s a h o u se on A n g e ll S treet y o u so u g h t in v a in
o n e n ig h t, an d on B arnes, at num ber ten , an d again
on C o lle g e , n u m ber sixty-six—
old th in gs, o ld p la c e s—n o th in g sticks
to us like th ese. I fo llo w e d y o u anoth er tim e; y o u w e n t along
th e S eek on k w h ere,
a ch ild , y o u m a d e o b eisa n ce to a n cien t gods o f earth and air.
M y friend, y o u see ,
w e share a com m on loyalty.
H .P .L .: H o w lo n g ago th at w as! S in ce th en , y o u k n ew ,
others took th eir p la c e —D a g o n , Y og-S oth oth, C thulhu.
E .A .P .: A h o st o f ev il, as m u ch th e terrors o f th e m in d
as w er e th o se older, m y o w n kind.
H .P .L .: A ll th at is d on e, sir. B u t h ere all ,round
still stands for us a k in d o f h a llo w ed grou nd—
h a llo w e d in a w a y for ea ch his ow n ,
an d n eith er o f us in this is q u ite alone.
E .A .P .: T h e n ig h t is you n g, m y friend,
an d th ere are o ld , en ch a n tin g p ath s to w en d .
A w a lk d o w n B enefit, p a st H e le n s h o m e, p a st th at sh u n n ed
h o u se o f o ld alarm
o n ce y o u celeb ra ted . . . L e t us forgo form ality.
C om e, sir, m y arm.
A v a l e n t i n e ’s DAY POEM TO EDGAR ALLAN POE
F or V a len tin e’s D a y , 1 8 4 6 , less than a year from th e en d o f her life
from tuberculosis on January 3 0 , 1 8 4 7 , V irginia E liz a b e th P oe, th en
tw e n ty -tw o years o f a g e, w rote a p o em to her husb an d . T h ere is a
sort o f a suprem e irony transcen d in g th e p athos th a t this girl, sick,
d y in g , o f lim ited ed u ca tio n , should su b m it her lo v e in a form at in
w h ic h her h u sb an d w o u ld com e to b e regard ed as tech n ica lly th e
su prem e m aster o f all A m erican literature.
T h e p o em w as d o n a ted to th e E n o ch Pratt F re e L ibrary o f B alti-
m ore, M aryland, b y d ista n t cousins o f P o e —D r. D erick A. January o f
W e st H artford, C o n n ecticu t, and Mrs. W orth B. D a n ie ls o f W ash in g-
ton. A t th e tim e o f its receip t th e d irector o f E n o ch Pratt, R ichard
H art, relea sed th e v erse for gen eral n ew sp a p er p u b lica tio n and com -
m e n te d th at it w as “th e m o st in terestin g and v a lu a b le P o e item re-
c e iv e d in th e last tw en ty -fiv e years.”
N e w sp a p e r stories, d istrib u ted b y A sso cia ted Press, in tim a ted th at
th e p hrase “ta ttlin g o f m a n y to n g u es” referred to P o e ’s “flirtations”
w ith other w o m e n . Its lines rep eat th e etern al h o p e o f y o u n g lo v e,
th a t there exists so m ew h ere the p ossib ility o f a rom antic id yll, in-
su lated from th e activ ities o f th e w orld , and im p regn ab le to o u tsid e
in flu en ce.
UNTITLED VALENTINE POEM TO EDGAR ALLAN POE
FROM HIS W IFE, 1846
By Virginia Toe
E v er w ith th ee I w ish to
roam —
D ea rest, m y life is thine.
G ive m e a co tta g e for m y
h o m e
A nd a rich o ld cyp ress vin e,
THE M A N WHO CALLED HIMSELF POE
241
R em o v ed from th e w o rld w ith
its sin an d care
A n d th e ta ttlin g o f m a n y
to n g u es.
L o v e alon e sh all g u id e w h e n
w e are th ere—
L o v e sh all h ea l m y
w e a k e n e d lungs;
A n d O , th e tranquil hours
w e ’ll sp en d ,
N e v e r w ish in g that others
m a y see!
P e r fe c t ea se w e ’ll en joy w ith -
o u t th in k in g to le n d
O u rselves to th e w o rld and
its g le e —
E v er p e a c e fu l and b lissfu l
w e ’ll b e.
BALTIMORE, OCTOBER 3R D
T h e o n ly p eriod icals still p u b lish e d in th e U n ite d S tates d e v o te d to
tales o f horror, terror, an d th e supernatural at th is w ritin g are e d ite d
b y R obert A . W . L o w n d e s as Magazine of Horror and Startling
Mystery Stories. T h ese pub lication s are th e prim e regular source for
tales in th e m o o d o f P o e ( “T h e O b lo n g B ox״ b y E d g a r A llan P o e
w a s reprinted in th e January 1 9 6 5 issu e o f Magazine of Horror) an d
v e in .
Several d ec a d e s a g o , R ob ert L o w n d e s b u ilt a rep u tation as a p o e t
o f m o o d fa n ta sy an d acco m p lish ed th e in cred ib le fe a t o f a ctu a lly
selling p oetry on a regular basis to th e n ew sstan d fan tasy p ulp m aga-
zin es Famous Fantastic Mysteries and Fantastic Novels. M ost o f it
ex a lted th e m asters o f th e strange, A . M erritt an d H . P. L ovecraft, b u t
on e w as title d “T o E d g a r A llan P o e” * (a p p ea rin g in th e S ep tem b er
1 9 4 0 issu e o f Fantastic N o vels). It w as p articularly d istin g u ish ed
for tw o lines w h ic h ca p tu red th e e sse n c e o f P oe:
A n d a ll th y w o u n d e d sen sitiv ity
B urst forth in strange, eth erea l m elo d y .
“B altim ore, O ctob er 3rd ” w a s w ritten e sp e c ia lly for this book. It
ap p ropriately b rin gs d o w n th e curtain on th e sad , h a u n te d life o f
E d g a r A llan P o e.
*It had earlier appeared in an amateur magazine, Fanta-Verse, published
as a one-shot for The First National Science Fiction Convention, May 1938,
Newark, N ew Jersey.
Baltimore, October 3rd
By Robert A. W. Lowndes
A n d on L om bard Street, p a ssin g C ou tb & Sergeant's,
T h e rain lig h t, b u t a ch ill p en etratin g,
Joe W alker cam e u p tow ard m e , running, his fa c e
R e d , an d a w etn e ss on it m ore th an rain.
H e sto p p ed as a clock stop s, sto o d th ere, look in g
A s if he'd to ld m e som eth in g; ey e s
S earchin g m e , and th e ch ill sta b b in g th rough. Joe
R ea c h e d ou t, grasp ing m y arm, an d still
N o sou nd s, n o w ord s,
N o th in g b u t silen ce and ch ill b e tw e e n us, grasp ing
M y arm and d raw in g m e in to th e tavern.
H e p o in ted , and I sa w D e a th ,
D e a th sitting;
D e a th
In an arm chair, sittin g, w ea rin g a tattered hat,
A n d th e clo th in g so iled . . . th e g o ld en b o w l broken;
N o b lood , b u t life se e p in g out;
N o m oans, b u t w ords tu m b lin g ou t,
disordered
W ords I k n e w , w ords o u t o f b ooks I k n ew . . .
A n d th e threadbare v o ic e w h o se p attern h a d I n ot heard
W h ere?
A n d W alker said, “H e's com in g—th e d octor’s co m in g ,
“I took him a n o te —D o c to r Snodgrass—he's co m in g .” O ne
In th e crow d, th e scu rvy crow d from th e C oop ,
W h ere th e y k ep t th e voters p e n n e d , fe e d in g th em liquor,
W e n t b y us th en , b ru sh in g th e figure’s h at, k n ock ed it
A sk ew and I sa w th e ey e s, th e ey es n o w d u l l . . .
O h G od,
G od . . . Mr. P oel
A n d I d id n ’t w a n t to go o u t th at n igh t, didn't
W a n t to stan d in th e la m p lig h t and fa c e th em ,
2 4 4
THE M AN WH0 CALLED HIMSELF POE
B u t I h ad prom ised, an d th e y w ere old; M other
A sk ed m e first an d I could n't an sw er her th en . I lo o k ed
O ver h er sh ould er, b e y o n d th e ligh t, w h e r e th e sh a d o w
T o u c h e d on th e b ook case, to u c h e d d ia g o n a lly , cu ttin g
A cross th e c o p y o f A l Aaraaf I h a d b rou gh t her,
A n d I w o n d ered if th e p a g es w ere still u n cu t.
T h e clear v o ic e stilled , th e v o ic e
T h a t h a d su n g and sp ok en as n o n e b efo re in this land;
T h e e y e s th a t harbored visions,
A n d visions b e y o n d visions, g la z e d . . .
A n d I started to say, ״Mr. P o e . . .” th en th e sound
O f m y o w n v o ic e d rove a w a y th e w ord s,
A ll o f th e w ord s, a ll o f th e w ord s Td w a n te d
T o te ll th em , flee in g n o w , o u t o f m y m in d , th e ch ill
S eep in g in an d th e w ords I w a n te d to sa y to th em