I, Ronald Wyatt, am a collector of darkest curiosa.
But it is that master of the macabre I do worship ...
Father of the Raven and Lord of the Worm ... POE.
But it is to Canning whom I must bow with utter envy.
Before his treasures of Poe's immortal terrors, I drool.
It is to my surprise, then, that I receive his invitation ...
To visit his ghastly fancy-weltered home in Maryland
And his infamous collection of the one and only Poe ...

Amidst that house of Poe's horrors, my mind reels ...
But I shudder when hitherto unpublished tales I espy.
Under drink, Canning his family's secrets does confess ...
Grave robbing ... Blackest occultism ... Raising the dead ...
Not simply artifacts had been collected but Poe himself!
Naught can stop my desperate search, not even Canning ...
Unto a ritual chamber a mysterious door then ushers me
And, beyond, the Master do I behold the sublime dread ... !

Possessed by the hunt for singular curiosity ...
Possessed by the hunger for utter morbidity ...
Possessed by the search for what the dead only know ...
Possessed by the horror of Edgar Allan Poe!

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