Text: Anonymous, “Poe's Child Wife,” Daily Inter Ocean (Chicago, IL), vol. XIII, no. 314, February 2, 1885, p. 3, col. 5

[page 2, column 5, continued:]

POE'S CHILD WIFE.

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The Poe memorial monument for Central Park has just arrived from Europe and will be unveiled some time in the spring. It consists of a plain shaft and a square pedestal, on the four sides of which are bas reliefs representing conceptions from the “Raven” and one or two of his other great poems I mention this for the purpose of relating some facts concerning Poe's poor child wife which have never before been published.

It was in 1845, or somewhere there about. that the poet came to New York to find something to do. He did not succeed well, and it was on that visit that he sold the “Raven” to the American Review for $5. He finally went out to Fordham, a little village up in Westchester County, which borders on the suburbs of New York City. It was then that he was living with his child wife, who took consumption and died. She was buried at Fordham, and she it was who was the “Annabel” of the most beautiful and touching poem he ever wrote. What other human heart than his could have measured such a depth of tender pathos About three years ago the people of Fordham determined they would remove the village graveyard. Few of them knew of Edgar Allen [[Allan]] Poe or his beautiful “Annabel.[[”]] They began to remove the bones and lay them away promiscuously in a sort of charnel ground some distance out in the country. A gentleman in New York who knew much of Poe's lite, who loved his poetry, and was aware that his wife was buried at Fordham, heard of the removal of the graveyard and went out to protect the bones of sweet “Annabel.” The grave had already been opened and he came near being too late. He collected the precious relics, wrapped them neatly in paper, and brought them to his home in New York, where he kept them for nearly two years.

One day a gentleman called who had known Mrs. Poe and who was very fond of the poem “Annabel [[Lee]].” The conversation drifted toward those beautiful, lines and verse after verse was repeated over and over. Finally the gentleman of the house arose and said: “I will show you something.” He then proceeded to unwrap the bones of the poor heroine. “These,” said he, “are the bones of ‘Annabel.’” He then proceeded to tell the story. The bones were soon afterward sent to be interred at Baltimore. — York Correspondence Kansas City Times.