Dora Williams

    When Reuben Pantier ran away and threw me
    I went to Springfield. There I met a lush,
    Whose father just deceased left him a fortune.
    He married me when drunk.
    My life was wretched.
    A year passed and one day they found him dead.
    That made me rich. I moved on to Chicago.
    After a time met Tyler Rountree, villain.
    I moved on to New York. A gray-haired magnate
    Went mad about me - so another fortune.
    He died one night right in my arms, you know.
    (I saw his purple face for years thereafter. )
    There was almost a scandal.
    I moved on, This time to Paris. I was now a woman,
    Insidious, subtle, versed in the world and rich.
    My sweet apartment near the Champs Elysees
    Became a center for all sorts of people,
    Musicians, poets, dandies, artists, nobles,
    Where we spoke French and German, Italian, English.
    I wed Count Navigato, native of Genoa.
    We went to Rome. He poisoned me, I think.
    Now in the Campo Santo overlooking
    The sea where young Columbus dreamed new worlds,
    See what they chiseled: "Contessa Navigato
    Implora eterna quiete."

Edgar Lee Masters

Edgar Lee Masters was an American poet, biographer, and dramatist. Born in Kansas and raised in Illinois, Masters is best known for his collection of poems entitled "Spoon River Anthology" (1915), which is a series of epitaphs of residents of the fictional small town of Spoon River. His works reflect the everyday lives and frustrations of middle America. Masters also practiced law and wrote biographies for historical figures such as Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain.

Edgar Lee Masters

Jacob Godbey

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Blind Jack

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Albert Schirding

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

The Cocked Hat

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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Edgar Lee Masters

Sea-Adventurers' Song.

("En partant du Golfe d'Otrante.")

[Bk. XXVIII.]


We told thirty when we started
From port so taut and fine,
But soon our crew were parted,
Till now we number nine.

Tom Robbins, English, tall and straight,
Left us at Aetna light;
He left us to investigate
What made the mountain bright;
"I mean to ask Old Nick himself,
(And here his eye he rolls)
If I can't bring Newcastle pelf
By selling him some coals!"

In Calabree, a lass and cup
Drove scowling Spada wild:
She only held her finger up,
And there he drank and smiled;
And over in Gaëta Bay,
Ascanio - ashore
A fool! - must wed a widow gay
Who'd buried three or four.

At Naples, woe! poor Ned they hanged -
Hemp neckcloth he disdained -

Victor-Marie Hugo

Tale Of Three Cities.

A seedy young man in Savanah
    Fell in love with a rich girl named Anna,
But her papa got mad
    And swore that "By Gad,
The fellow shall never Havana!"

But the couple eloped to Caracas,
    Where the Germans kicked up such a fracas;
And he said to his wife,
    "You can bet your sweet life
That papa dear never will track us."

Edwin C. Ranck