Hapy Birthday....Edgar Allan
The mystery of Edgar Allan Poe continues. Beginning in 1949, Poe's grave has been visited every year by a mystery man, during the early hours of Poe's birthday, January 19th.
It has been reported that a man draped in black with a silver-tipped cane, kneels at the grave for a toast of Martel Cognac and leaves the half-full bottle and three red roses. The three red roses supposedly are in memory of Poe himself, his mother, and his wife. Poe is believed to be buried on the grounds of what is now the University of Maryland Law School in Baltimore.
Considered by many to be the progenitor of detective and crime fiction in the United States, his cause of death at the age of 40, and his actual burial place remain shrouded in mystery and controversy.
Have a shot of Cognac today and think of Edgar...
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Alone, a poem by E.A. Poe
