Medgar was not highly esteemed amongst his peers because his poetry so closely resembled that of his famous brother. This passage from Medgar’s poem “The Pigeon” will probably feel rather familiar.
Once upon a radiant dawny
While I pondered, weak and scrawny
While I nodded, nearly snoring
Suddenly asleep upon the flooring
Some say that Medgar wasn’t a bad writer, he just didn’t have an original thought. Edgar preferred to overlook his younger brother’s plagiaristic tendencies and was once overhead saying, “I love my little brother. Medgar possesses many as-of-yet undiscovered talents. Writing may not be among them.”
Medgar’s life ended prematurely when he was shot through the left temple while drinking an ale at the corner pub. He’d been courting the gunman’s wife.
His last words, carved into his tombstone, were, “Quoth the Medgar, ‘Nevermore’.”