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

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

Imanuel Ehrenhardt

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Flossie Cabanis

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Captain Orlando Killion

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Widow Fortelka

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.

Doctor Meyers

    No other man, unless it was Doc Hill,
    Did more for people in this town than I.
    And all the weak, the halt, the improvident
    And those who could not pay flocked to me.
    I was good-hearted, easy Doctor Meyers.
    I was healthy, happy, in comfortable fortune,
    Blest with a congenial mate, my children raised,
    All wedded, doing well in the world.
    And then one night, Minerva, the poetess,
    Came to me in her trouble, crying.
    I tried to help her out - she died -
    They indicted me, the newspapers disgraced me,
    My wife perished of a broken heart.
    And pneumonia finished me.

Edgar Lee Masters

Herbert Marshall

    All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me
    Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
    Of spirit and contempt of your soul's rights
    Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.
    You really grew to hate me for love of me,
    Because I was your soul's happiness,
    Formed and tempered
    To solve your life for you, and would not.
    But you were my misery.
    If you had been
    My happiness would I not have clung to you?
    This is life's sorrow:
    That one can be happy only where two are;
    And that our hearts are drawn to stars
    Which want us not.

Edgar Lee Masters

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...

Edgar Lee Masters

Johnnie Sayre

    Father, thou canst never know
    The anguish that smote my heart
    For my disobedience, the moment I felt
    The remorseless wheel of the engine
    Sink into the crying flesh of my leg.
    As they carried me to the home of widow Morris
    I could see the school-house in the valley
    To which I played truant to steal rides upon the trains.
    I prayed to live until I could ask your forgiveness -
    And then your tears, your broken words of comfort!
    From the solace of that hour I have gained infinite happiness.
    Thou wert wise to chisel for me:
    "Taken from the evil to come."

Edgar Lee Masters

Ezra Bartlett

    A chaplain in the army,
    A chaplain in the prisons,
    An exhorter in Spoon River,
    Drunk with divinity, Spoon River -
    Yet bringing poor Eliza Johnson to shame,
    And myself to scorn and wretchedness.
    But why will you never see that love of women,
    And even love of wine,
    Are the stimulants by which the soul, hungering for divinity,
    Reaches the ecstatic vision
    And sees the celestial outposts?
    Only after many trials for strength,
    Only when all stimulants fail,
    Does the aspiring soul
    By its own sheer power
    Find the divine
    By resting upon itself.

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