Edgar Allan Poe
Jan 19, 1809 - October 7, 1849
Edgar was born in Boston Massachusetts in 1809, being the second child of the family. He had an older brother and a younger sister, his dad abandoned him and the family in 1810, his mom died a year later due to tuberculosis. When he got older he wasn't able to support himself, so he joined the army in 1827 as a private major. He served at fort independence at Boston harbor for five dollars a month. The same year he released his first poetry book, at first it didn't receive any attention. Poe was then promoted to artificer, then after serving for 2 years in the army, he became a Sergeant Major ( a highest rank a noncommission officer can get). Poe got released from the army on April 15, 1829, Poe then moved back to Baltimore after that.
In 1831, Edgar went to New York City where he had his poetry published. He entered stories to a number of magazines and they were all rejected. Poe didn't have any friends, any job, and was in financial issues. Poe wrote a letter to john Allan asking him for help, but as time past John didn't mention anything, and in 1834 John died. The next year he got a job as a newspaper editor, by winning a contest with his poem called "The Manuscript in a Bottle". And his career began from there, but when he tried to publish his poems none of them would get peoples attention, so he had to move to different states to see where his poems were popular. In 1845, Edgar became an editor at The Broadway Journal. A year later, the Journal ran out of money and Poe didn't have a job. He and his family moved to a small cottage. His wife's health was beginning to get worst and Edgar was very stressed by it. His wife died in 1847, 10 days later Edgar's birthday. After losing his wife, Poe collapsed from stress but slowly returned to making poetry later that year .Poe never had a stable job in his life, he would get recognition for a poem with lots of copies but never made enough money to support his family.
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were I have not see
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
The poem Alone talks about his life, who he lost, who he loved, what he saw, and what he experienced in his life.