Mrs. Charles Bliss

    Reverend Wiley advised me not to divorce him
    For the sake of the children,
    And Judge Somers advised him the same.
    So we stuck to the end of the path.
    But two of the children thought he was right,
    And two of the children thought I was right.
    And the two who sided with him blamed me,
    And the two who sided with me blamed him,
    And they grieved for the one they sided with.
    And all were torn with the guilt of judging,
    And tortured in soul because they could not admire
    Equally him and me.
    Now every gardener knows that plants grown in cellars
    Or under stones are twisted and yellow and weak.
    And no mother would let her baby suck
    Diseased milk from her breast.
    Yet preachers and judges advise the raising of souls
    Where there is no sunlight, but only twilight,
    No warmth, but only dampness and cold -
    Preachers and judges!

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

Alma Bell To The Coroner

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

William Marion Reedy

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

For A Dance

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Irma Leese

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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Rev. Percy Ferguson

    The Rev. Percy Ferguson, patrician
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Edgar Lee Masters

Louise Smith

    Herbert broke our engagement of eight years
    When Annabelle returned to the village From the
    Seminary, ah me!
    If I had let my love for him alone
    It might have grown into a beautiful sorrow -
    Who knows? - filling my life with healing fragrance.
    But I tortured it, I poisoned it
    I blinded its eyes, and it became hatred -
    Deadly ivy instead of clematis.
    And my soul fell from its support
    Its tendrils tangled in decay.
    Do not let the will play gardener to your soul
    Unless you are sure
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Edgar Lee Masters

Rev. Lemuel Wiley

    I preached four thousand sermons,
    I conducted forty revivals,
    And baptized many converts.
    Yet no deed of mine
    Shines brighter in the memory of the world,
    And none is treasured more by me:
    Look how I saved the Blisses from divorce,
    And kept the children free from that disgrace,
    To grow up into moral men and women,
    Happy themselves, a credit to the village.

Edgar Lee Masters

Mrs. Meyers

    He protested all his life long
    The newspapers lied about him villainously;
    That he was not at fault for Minerva's fall,
    But only tried to help her.
    Poor soul so sunk in sin he could not see
    That even trying to help her, as he called it,
    He had broken the law human and divine.
    Passers by, an ancient admonition to you:
    If your ways would be ways of pleasantness,
    And all your pathways peace,
    Love God and keep his commandments.

Edgar Lee Masters

Samuel Butler Et Al.

Let me consider your emergence
From the milieu of our youth:
We have played all the afternoon, grown hungry.
No meal has been prepared, where have you been?
Toward sun's decline we see you down the path,
And run to meet you, and perhaps you smile,
Or take us in your arms. Perhaps again
You look at us, say nothing, are absorbed,
Or chide us for our dirty frocks or faces.
Of running wild without our meals
You do not speak.

Then in the house, seized with a sudden joy,
After removing gloves and hat, you run,
As with a winged descending flight, and cry,
Half song, half exclamation,
Seize one of us,
Crush one of us with mad embraces, bite
Ears of us in a rapture of affection.
"You shall have supper," then you say.
The stove lids rattle, wood's p...

Edgar Lee Masters

John Ballard

    In the lust of my strength
    I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me:
    I might as well have cursed the stars.
    In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute
    And I cursed God for my suffering;
    Still He paid no attention to me;
    He left me alone, as He had always done.
    I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple.
    Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me:
    Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him.
    One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquet
    And it occurred to me to try to make friends with God,
    So I tried to make friends with Him;
    But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet.
    Now I was very close to the secret,
    For I really could make friends with the bouquet

Edgar Lee Masters