Text: Anonymous, “[Poe Had His day],” Fall River Daily Evening News (Fall River, MA), vol. XXI, no. 182, January 2, 1880, p. 2, col. 1

[page 2, column 1, continued:]

☞ The last few months have been marked by the annual references to and eulogies of Edgar Allen [[Allan]] Poe, a fellow that figured some thirty to forty years ago, and became famous for poetry of the hare-brained. type, absorbing huge drafts of brandy, and dying of intemperance under circumstances of afflictive import. Several people have done their best to elevate Mr. Poe up among the high talented gentry that have adorned our literature. But it is a mistake. Poe was born in Boston and died in Baltimore, and there is as much difference between the opium ravings of his “Raven” and Longfellow's “Resignation” as between night and day. The poorest of Whittier is as good as the best of Poe, and when we call in Longfellow's “Evangeline” or Sprague's “Curiosity,” Poe fades into insignificance. The best thing for Poe is to be let alone. He had his day; he did his work in his own way, and fell by the way as we must all fall, and now let his slumbers be as sweet as the of silence that fall like benediction on one who suffered so much and so foolishly.