Lydia Puckett

    Knowlt Hoheimer ran away to the war
    The day before Curl Trenary
    Swore out a warrant through Justice Arnett
    For stealing hogs.
    But that's not the reason he turned a soldier.
    He caught me running with Lucius Atherton.
    We quarreled and I told him never again
    To cross my path.
    Then he stole the hogs and went to the war -
    Back of every soldier is a woman.

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

Pauline Barrett

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

The Circuit Judge

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Edmund Pollard

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Russell Kincaid

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.

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

Henry Tripp

    The bank broke and I lost my savings.
    I was sick of the tiresome game in Spoon River
    And I made up my mind to run away
    And leave my place in life and my family;
    But just as the midnight train pulled in,
    Quick off the steps jumped Cully Green
    And Martin Vise, and began to fight
    To settle their ancient rivalry,
    Striking each other with fists that sounded
    Like the blows of knotted clubs.
    Now it seemed to me that Cully was winning,
    When his bloody face broke into a grin
    Of sickly cowardice, leaning on Martin
    And whining out "We're good friends, Mart,
    You know that I'm your friend."
    But a terrible punch from Martin knocked him
    Around and around and into a heap.
    And then they arrested me as...

Edgar Lee Masters

John Wasson

    Oh! the dew-wet grass of the meadow in North Carolina
    Through which Rebecca followed me wailing, wailing,
    One child in her arms, and three that ran along wailing,
    Lengthening out the farewell to me off to the war with the British,
    And then the long, hard years down to the day of Yorktown.
    And then my search for Rebecca,
    Finding her at last in Virginia,
    Two children dead in the meanwhile.
    We went by oxen to Tennessee,
    Thence after years to Illinois,
    At last to Spoon River.
    We cut the buffalo grass,
    We felled the forests,
    We built the school houses, built the bridges,
    Leveled the roads and tilled the fields
    Alone with poverty, scourges, death -
    If Harry Wilmans who fought the Filipinos
    ...

Edgar Lee Masters

Searcy Foote

    I wanted to go away to college
    But rich Aunt Persis wouldn't help me.
    So I made gardens and raked the lawns
    And bought John Alden's books with my earnings
    And toiled for the very means of life.
    I wanted to marry Delia Prickett,
    But how could I do it with what I earned?
    And there was Aunt Persis more than seventy
    Who sat in a wheel-chair half alive
    With her throat so paralyzed, when she swallowed
    The soup ran out of her mouth like a duck -
    A gourmand yet, investing her income
    In mortgages, fretting all the time
    About her notes and rents and papers.
    That day I was sawing wood for her,
    And reading Proudhon in between.
    I went in the house for a drink of water,
    And there she sat asleep in ...

Edgar Lee Masters

Ralph Rhodes

    All they said was true:
    I wrecked my father's bank with my loans
    To dabble in wheat; but this was true -
    I was buying wheat for him as well,
    Who couldn't margin the deal in his name
    Because of his church relationship.
    And while George Reece was serving his term
    I chased the will-o-the-wisp of women
    And the mockery of wine in New York.
    It's deathly to sicken of wine and women
    When nothing else is left in life.
    But suppose your head is gray, and bowed
    On a table covered with acrid stubs
    Of cigarettes and empty glasses,
    And a knock is heard, and you know it's the knock
    So long drowned out by popping corks
    And the pea-cock screams of demireps -
    And you look up, and there's your Theft,

Edgar Lee Masters

Jeduthan Hawley

    There would be a knock at the door
    And I would arise at midnight and go to the shop,
    Where belated travelers would hear me hammering
    Sepulchral boards and tacking satin.
    And often I wondered who would go with me
    To the distant land, our names the theme
    For talk, in the same week, for I've observed
    Two always go together.
    Chase Henry was paired with Edith Conant;
    And Jonathan Somers with Willie Metcalf;
    And Editor Hamblin with Francis Turner,
    When he prayed to live longer than Editor Whedon,
    And Thomas Rhodes with widow McFarlane;
    And Emily Sparks with Barry Holden;
    And Oscar Hummel with Davis Matlock;
    And Editor Whedon with Fiddler Jones;
    And Faith Matheny with Dorcas Gustine.
    And I, ...

Edgar Lee Masters