MS. Found Throttled

Dear Sir, there is a gentleman you know 
Beside me here, at Ryan’s Fourth Ward polls, 
Who goes by the cognomen Edgar Poe.

Admitted 5 pm on 3 October. 
As soon as I was able, I went over. 
Excitable . . . delirious . . . not sober. 

Saturday night commences calling, “O
Reynolds! Reynolds! Reynolds!” until say oh
Three o’clock Sunday morning, when he goes 

Into a stupor endlessly misquoted. 
Perhaps this current leads to the South Pole. 
Of course, there is no certain way . . . oh no.