The Raven : Large Print

A man of genius usually gains a footing with the success of some one effort, and this is not alwayshis greatest.

Recognition is the more instant for having been postponed.

He does not acquire it, likea miser's fortune, coin after coin, but "not at all or all in all." And thus with other ambitions: thecourtier, soldier, actor,-whatever their parts,-each counts his triumph from some lucky stroke.Poe's Raven, despite augury, was for him "the bird that made the breeze to blow." The poet settledin New-York, in the winter of 1844-'45, finding work upon Willis's paper, "The Evening Mirror,"and eking out his income by contributions elsewhere.

For six years he had been an active writer, andenjoyed a professional reputation; was held in both respect and misdoubt, and was at no loss for hisshare of the ill-paid journalism of that day.

He also had done much of his very best work,-suchtales as "Ligeia" and "The Fall of the House of Usher," (the latter containing that mysticalcounterpart, in verse, of Elihu Vedder's "A Lost Mind,") such analytic feats as "The Gold Bug" and"The Mystery of Marie Roget." He had made proselytes abroad, and gained a lasting hold upon theFrench mind.

He had learned his own power and weakness, and was at his prime, and not without acertain reputation.

But he had written nothing that was on the tongue of everybody.

To rare anddelicate work some popular touch must be added to capture the general audience of one's own time.