Lake Boats

And under the shadows of cliffs of brick
The lake boats
Huddled like swans
Turn and sigh like sleepers
They are longing for the Spring!

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

Arabel

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Harry Wilmans

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

State's Attorney Fallas

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Frank Drummer

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Grand River Marshes

Silvers and purples breathing in a sky
Of fiery mid-days, like a watching tiger,
Of the restrained but passionate July
Upon the marshes of the river lie,
Like the filmed pinions of the dragon fly.

        *        *        *        *        *

A whole horizon's waste of rushes bend
Under the flapping of the breeze's wing,
Departing and revisiting
The haunts of the river twisting without end.

        *        *        *        *        *

The torsions of the river make long miles
Of the waters of the river which remain
Coiled by the village, tortuous aisles
Of water between the rushes, which restrain
The bewildered currents in returning files,
Twisting between the greens like a blue racer,
Too hurt to leap with body or uplift
Its...

Edgar Lee Masters

Toward The Gulf

Dedicated to Theodore Roosevelt


From the Cordilleran Highlands,
From the Height of Land
Far north.
From the Lake of the Woods,
From Rainy Lake,
From Itasca's springs.
From the snow and the ice
Of the mountains,
Breathed on by the sun,
And given life,
Awakened by kisses of fire,
Moving, gliding as brightest hyaline
Down the cliffs,
Down the hills,
Over the stones.
Trickling as rills;
Swiftly running as mountain brooks;
Swirling through runnels of rock;
Curving in spheréd silence
Around the long worn walls of granite gorges;
Storming through chasms;
And flowing for miles in quiet over the Titan basin
To the muddled waters of the mighty river,
Himself obeying the call of the gulf,
And the unfathomed ...

Edgar Lee Masters

When Under The Icy Eaves

    When under the icy eaves
        The swallow heralds the sun,
    And the dove for its lost mate grieves
        And the young lambs play and run;
    When the sea is a plane of glass,
        And the blustering winds are still,
    And the strength of the thin snows pass
        In mists o'er the tawny hill -
    The spirit of life awakes
    In the fresh flags by the lakes.

    When the sick man seeks the air,
        And the graves of the dead grow green,
    Where the children play unaware
        Of the faces no longer seen;
    When all we have felt or can feel,
        And all we are or have been,
    And all the heart can hide or reveal,
        Knocks gently, and enters in: -
    The spirit of life awakes,
    In the fresh fla...

Edgar Lee Masters

A Boat Beneath A Sunny Sky

A boat beneath a sunny sky,
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July,

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear,

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream,
Lingering in the golden dream,
Life, what is it but a dream?

Lewis Carroll

On the Lake.

There's a beautiful lake where the sun lies low,
And the skies are warm with their summer glow;
And a beautiful picture there I see
Where the winds are warm and the waves are free,
    And the waves lie still in the sun
As the flowers at night, when the day is done.

You may sing of your silvery seas by night
When the moon looks down with a dreamy light;
And the stars shine out in the skies above
Like the warm sweet gaze of the eyes of love;
    But the glow on the lake to-day
Is a glory that never will fade away.

The beautiful lake is a sea of gold
And the beauty it wears will never grow old;
The trees bend down in the sun's warm glow
Till their branches meet in the waves below,
    And the clouds in the far-off skies
Are mirrored anew where t...

Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

The Lake

    I am a lake, altered by every wind.
    The mild South breathes upon me, and I spread
    A dance of merry ripples in the sun.
    The West comes stormily and I am troubled,
    My waves conflict and black depths show between them.
    Under the East wind bitter I grow and chill,
    Slate-coloured, desolate, hopeless.    But when blows
    A steady wind from the North my motion ceases,
    I am frozen smooth and hard; my conquered surface
    Returns the skies' cold light without a comment.
    I make no sound, nor can I; nor can I show
    What depth I have, if any depth, below.

John Collings Squire, Sir