George Gray

    I have studied many times
    The marble which was chiseled for me -
    A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
    In truth it pictures not my destination
    But my life.
    For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
    Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
    Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
    Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
    And now I know that we must lift the sail
    And catch the winds of destiny
    Wherever they drive the boat.
    To put meaning in one's life may end in madness,
    But life without meaning is the torture
    Of restlessness and vague desire -
    It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

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

The Idiot

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Elsa Wertman

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Fiddler Jones

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Julian Scott

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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Webster Ford

    Do you remember, O Delphic Apollo,
    The sunset hour by the river, when Mickey M'Grew
    Cried, "There's a ghost," and I, "It's Delphic Apollo,".
    And the son of the banker derided us, saying, "It's light
    By the flags at the water's edge, you half-witted fools."
    And from thence, as the wearisome years rolled on, long after
    Poor Mickey fell down in the water tower to his death
    Down, down, through bellowing darkness, I carried
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Edgar Lee Masters

Terminus

    Terminus shows the ways and says,
    "All things must have an end."
    Oh, bitter thought we hid away
    When first you were my friend.

    We hid it in the darkest place
    Our hearts had place to hide,
    And took the sweet as from a spring
    Whose waters would abide.

    For neither life nor the wide world
    Has greater store than this: -
    The thought that runs through hands and eyes
    And fills the silences.

    There is a void the agéd world
    Throws over the spent heart;
    When Life has given all she has,
    And Terminus says depart.

    When we must sit with folded hands,
    And see with inward eye
    A void rise like an arctic breath
    To hollow the morrow's sky.

    To-morrow...

Edgar Lee Masters

Percival Sharp

    Observe the clasped hands!
    Are they hands of farewell or greeting,
    Hands that I helped or hands that helped me?
    Would it not be well to carve a hand
    With an inverted thumb, like Elagabalus?
    And yonder is a broken chain,
    The weakest-link idea perhaps - but what was it?
    And lambs, some lying down,
    Others standing, as if listening to the shepherd -
    Others bearing a cross, one foot lifted up -
    Why not chisel a few shambles?
    And fallen columns!
    Carve the pedestal, please,
    Or the foundations; let us see the cause of the fall.
    And compasses and mathematical instruments,
    In irony of the under tenants, ignorance
    Of determinants and the calculus of variations.
    And anchors, for those who never s...

Edgar Lee Masters

James Garber

    Do you remember, passer-by, the path
    I wore across the lot where now stands the opera house
    Hasting with swift feet to work through many years?
    Take its meaning to heart:
    You too may walk, after the hills at Miller's Ford
    Seem no longer far away;
    Long after you see them near at hand,
    Beyond four miles of meadow;
    And after woman's love is silent
    Saying no more: "l will save you."
    And after the faces of friends and kindred
    Become as faded photographs, pitifully silent,
    Sad for the look which means:
    "We cannot help you."
    And after you no longer reproach mankind
    With being in league against your soul's uplifted hands -
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Edgar Lee Masters

Arlo Will

    Did you ever see an alligator
    Come up to the air from the mud,
    Staring blindly under the full glare of noon?
    Have you seen the stabled horses at night
    Tremble and start back at the sight of a lantern?
    Have you ever walked in darkness
    When an unknown door was open before you
    And you stood, it seemed, in the light of a thousand candles
    Of delicate wax?
    Have you walked with the wind in your ears
    And the sunlight about you
    And found it suddenly shine with an inner splendor?
    Out of the mud many times
    Before many doors of light
    Through many fields of splendor,
    Where around your steps a soundless glory scatters
    Like new - fallen snow,
    Will you go through earth, O strong of soul,
    And...

Edgar Lee Masters

When Life Is Real

    We rode, we rode against the wind.
    The countless lights along the town
    Made the town blacker for their fire,
    And you were always looking down.

    To 'scape the blustering breath of March,
    Or was it for your mind's disguise?
    Still I could shut my eyes and see
    The turquoise color of your eyes.

    Surely your ermine furs were warm,
    And warm your flowing cloak of red;
    Was it the wild wind kept you thus
    Pensive and with averted head?

    I scarcely spoke, my words were swept
    Like winged things in the wind's despite.
    We rode, and with what shadow speed
    Across the darkness of the night!

    Without a word, without a look.
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Edgar Lee Masters