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-Edgar Allen Poe was born on January 19, 1809.
-Poe lived with his mother until she died when he was
- Poe went to the University in 1826.
-He had no success in writing until he became a editor in 1835
-Edgar married his 13-year-old cousin in 1836.

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"Harry's Chase Forum." Harry's Chase Forum • View Topic - Ask Not for Whom the Wood Drifts, It Drifts for Thee. N.p., n.d. Web. 07 Apr. 2017.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "The Raven." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 07 Apr. 2017.

Poe, Edgar Allan. "“Alone”." Poetry Foundation. Poetry Foundation, n.d. Web. 07 Apr. 2017

"Edgar Allan Poe." Biography.com. A&E Networks Television, 27 Oct. 2016. Web. 07 Apr. 2017.

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Symbolism- Symbolism describes a person, place, object or activity that stands for something beyond itself. Black ravens are often seen as bad omens. Having the Raven continuously repeat the words “Nevermore” (Poe, line 48), adds to the already dull mood of the poem. The Raven symbolizes evil and death as the narrator feels immense grief from the separation of his lover, Lenore, when he is talking to the bird.

Internal Rhyme- Internal rhyme is a rhyme that occurs within a line, rather than at the end. Poe uses internal rhyme when he says “Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow” (Poe, line 9). The word “morrow” and “sorrow” both rhyme to provide a fluent flow to the rhythm of the line.

Assonance- Assonance is the repetition of vowel sounds in stressed syllables containing dissimilar consonant sounds. Assonance is used when Poe says, “Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before” (Poe, line 14). The stress on the the “ill” sound is used to reinforce the meanings of the words and set a mood of tension.

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The poem “The Raven”, written by Edgar Allan Poe, is the story of a distressed lover who is mourning the death of Lenore, the woman he loves. The poem begins “in the bleak of December” in which the speaker is attempting to forget about Lenore. Out of nowhere, the speaker hears someone tapping at the door and assumes that “tis some visitor entreating entrance” at the chamber door. The speaker flings the door open only to be faced with complete darkness and distant shadows. The speaker goes to open the window in hopes of getting rid of the tapping noise and “in there stepped a stately Raven”, immediately after the lift of the shutter. The man questions the Raven’s presence and asks it question such as its name, only to find the the Raven’s only response is “nevermore”. Increasingly overcome by paranoia, the man asks the bird if he will come face to face with Lenore once again in “the distant Aidenn”. With the same response of “Nevermore” from the bird, the Raven destroys any hope that the speaker had about being reunited with Lenore in heaven, as well as his request for the Raven to leave him alone. “The Raven” explores themes of death and afterlife as the speaker is obsessed with asking questions about the deceased Lenore to the Raven, in hopes of gaining insight on a possibility of being together again in the future. The poem contains a variety of rhymes from internal to external that vary from ABCBBB to AABCCCCBCBB. When Poe was writing “The Raven”, his wife was deathly ill with tuberculosis. “The Raven” is therefore a poem written by a man who has lost many loved ones, and is bound to lose more.

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One of the many themes of "Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe is the the light is not always bright at the end of the tunnel. He was very depressed throughout his childhood, which followed him through the rest of his life. His parents separated and he lived with his mother until she died when he was 2. In the poem, Poe capitalizes every letter at the beginning of each line. Dashes are also used throughout the poem. This was a poem written about a flashback that the author had back to his childhood. As a child Edgar Allan Poe was depressed and felt "Alone."  "Edgar's natural mother died when he was very young, and his natural father had already abandoned him," (Winters, 2).

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Imagery- "In its autumn tint of gold," (Poe, line 16. Poe is describing the sun in his life using descriptive language "tint of gold" to help the reader understand how bright the idea of the sun or happiness is in his depressing life.

Anaphora- the poem uses anaphora to the importance of certain lines using the same words at the beginning of the lines. The reason behind this device is that the torrent represents happiness.
"From the torrent, or the fountain—

From the red cliff of the mountain—

From the sun that ’round me roll’d"

Speaker- Edgar Allan Poe writes in first person. It is the narrative voice that speaks to the reader behind the scene. The speaker is sometimes a distant observer and other times immediately involved with the experiences and ideas being expressed in the poem.

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“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe

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 lov’d—I lov’d alone—

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From ev’ry 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 roll’d

In its autumn tint of gold—

From the lightning in the sky

As it pass’d 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—

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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!