I’ve said just about all there is to say about it already, but I’ll reiterate anyway.

It started so strong. Top notch. It flowed better than any other poetry I’m reading, and it topped his short stories that I really loved.

But the further I got in, the less enthralled I became. His popular poems are popular for a reason, and if this is his full collection, he didn’t really write a ton of it.

Thankfully, this book did end on a high note, but for my own pleasure, I went back and read The Raven.

The story about Poe reciting The Raven to his friend in the street is one of my favorite stories, and I stand by my opinion that that poem could indeed be the best poem ever written.

I feel ashamed to put this back on the shelf.

Thank you, Poe. You died before your time.