Hamilton Greene

    I was the only child of Frances Harris of Virginia
    And Thomas Greene of Kentucky,
    Of valiant and honorable blood both.
    To them I owe all that I became,
    Judge, member of Congress, leader in the State.
    From my mother I inherited
    Vivacity, fancy, language;
    From my father will, judgment, logic.
    All honor to them
    For what service I was to the people!

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

State's Attorney Fallas

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Jeduthan Hawley

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Sir Galahad

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Indignation" Jones

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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Elsa Wertman

    I was a peasant girl from Germany,
    Blue-eyed, rosy, happy and strong.
    And the first place I worked was at Thomas Greene's.
    On a summer's day when she was away
    He stole into the kitchen and took me
    Right in his arms and kissed me on my throat,
    I turning my head. Then neither of us
    Seemed to know what happened.
    And I cried for what would become of me.
    And cried and cried as my secret began to show.
    One day Mrs. Greene said she understood,
    And would make no trouble for me,
    And, being childless, would adopt it.
    (He had given her a farm to be still. )
    So she hid in the house and sent out rumors,
    As if it were going to happen to her.
    And all went well and the child was born -
    They were so k...

Edgar Lee Masters

Granville Calhoun

    I wanted to be County Judge
    One more term, so as to round out a service
    Of thirty years.
    But my friends left me and joined my enemies,
    And they elected a new man.
    Then a spirit of revenge seized me,
    And I infected my four sons with it,
    And I brooded upon retaliation,
    Until the great physician, Nature,
    Smote me through with paralysis
    To give my soul and body a rest.
    Did my sons get power and money?
    Did they serve the people or yoke them,
    To till and harvest fields of self?
    For how could they ever forget
    My face at my bed-room window,
    Sitting helpless amid my golden cages
    Of singing canaries,
    Looking at the old court-house?

Edgar Lee Masters

John Horace Burleson

    I won the prize essay at school
    Here in the village,
    And published a novel before I was twenty-five.
    I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art;
    There married the banker's daughter,
    And later became president of the bank -
    Always looking forward to some leisure
    To write an epic novel of the war.
    Meanwhile friend of the great, and lover of letters,
    And host to Matthew Arnold and to Emerson.
    An after dinner speaker, writing essays
    For local clubs. At last brought here -
    My boyhood home, you know -
    Not even a little tablet in Chicago
    To keep my name alive.
    How great it is to write the single line:
    "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!"

Edgar Lee Masters

Jefferson Howard

    My valiant fight! For I call it valiant,
    With my father's beliefs from old Virginia:
    Hating slavery, but no less war.
    I, full of spirit, audacity, courage
    Thrown into life here in Spoon River,
    With its dominant forces drawn from
    New England, Republicans, Calvinists, merchants, bankers,
    Hating me, yet fearing my arm.
    With wife and children heavy to carry -
    Yet fruits of my very zest of life.
    Stealing odd pleasures that cost me prestige,
    And reaping evils I had not sown;
    Foe of the church with its charnel dankness,
    Friend of the human touch of the tavern;
    Tangled with fates all alien to me,
    Deserted by hands I called my own.
    Then just as I felt my giant strength
    Short of breath, behold ...

Edgar Lee Masters

Anne Rutledge

    Out of me unworthy and unknown
    The vibrations of deathless music;
    "With malice toward none, with charity for all.',
    Out of me the forgiveness of millions toward millions,
    And the beneficent face of a nation
    Shining with justice and truth.
    I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds,
    Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln,
    Wedded to him, not through union, But through separation.
    Bloom forever, O Republic,
    From the dust of my bosom!

Edgar Lee Masters

Knowlt Hoheimer

    I was the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge.
    When I felt the bullet enter my heart
    I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail
    For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary,
    Instead of running away and joining the army.
    Rather a thousand times the county jail
    Than to lie under this marble figure with wings,
    And this granite pedestal Bearing the words, "Pro Patria."
    What do they mean, anyway?

Edgar Lee Masters