Perry Zoll

    My thanks, friends of the
    County Scientific Association,
    For this modest boulder,
    And its little tablet of bronze.
    Twice I tried to join your honored body,
    And was rejected
    And when my little brochure
    On the intelligence of plants
    Began to attract attention
    You almost voted me in.
    After that I grew beyond the need of you
    And your recognition.
    Yet I do not reject your memorial stone
    Seeing that I should, in so doing,
    Deprive you of honor to yourselves.

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

Consider Freeland

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Dear Old Dick

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Jacob Goodpasture

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Elizabeth Childers

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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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."
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Edgar Lee Masters

William Jones

    Once in a while a curious weed unknown to me,
    Needing a name from my books;
    Once in a while a letter from Yeomans.
    Out of the mussel-shells gathered along the shore
    Sometimes a pearl with a glint like meadow rue:
    Then betimes a letter from Tyndall in England,
    Stamped with the stamp of Spoon River.
    I, lover of Nature, beloved for my love of her,
    Held such converse afar with the great
    Who knew her better than I.
    Oh, there is neither lesser nor greater,
    Save as we make her greater and win from her keener delight.
    With shells from the river cover me, cover me.
    I lived in wonder, worshipping earth and heaven.
    I have passed on the march eternal of endless life.

Edgar Lee Masters

Cassius Hueffer

    They have chiseled on my stone the words:
    "His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him
    That nature might stand up and say to all the world,
    This was a man."
    Those who knew me smile
    As they read this empty rhetoric.
    My epitaph should have been:
    "Life was not gentle to him,
    And the elements so mixed in him
    That he made warfare on life
    In the which he was slain."
    While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues,
    Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph
    Graven by a fool!

Edgar Lee Masters

E. C. Culbertson

    Is it true, Spoon River,
    That in the hall - way of the New Court House
    There is a tablet of bronze
    Containing the embossed faces
    Of Editor Whedon and Thomas Rhodes?
    And is it true that my successful labors
    In the County Board, without which
    Not one stone would have been placed on another,
    And the contributions out of my own pocket
    To build the temple, are but memories among the people,
    Gradually fading away, and soon to descend
    With them to this oblivion where I lie?
    In truth, I can so believe.
    For it is a law of the Kingdom of Heaven
    That whoso enters the vineyard at the eleventh hour
    Shall receive a full day's pay.
    And it is a law of the Kingdom of this World
    That those who first op...

Edgar Lee Masters

Lambert Hutchins

    I have two monuments besides this granite obelisk:
    One, the house I built on the hill,
    With its spires, bay windows, and roof of slate.
    The other, the lake-front in Chicago,
    Where the railroad keeps a switching yard,
    With whistling engines and crunching wheels
    And smoke and soot thrown over the city,
    And the crash of cars along the boulevard, -
    A blot like a hog-pen on the harbor
    Of a great metropolis, foul as a sty.
    I helped to give this heritage
    To generations yet unborn, with my vote
    In the House of Representatives,
    And the lure of the thing was to be at rest
    From the never - ending fright of need,
    And to give my daughters gentle breeding,
    And a sense of security in life.
    But, you ...

Edgar Lee Masters

Alfonso Churchill

    They laughed at me as "Prof. Moon,"
    As a boy in Spoon River, born with the thirst
    Of knowing about the stars.
    They jeered when I spoke of the lunar mountains,
    And the thrilling heat and cold,
    And the ebon valleys by silver peaks,
    And Spica quadrillions of miles away,
    And the littleness of man.
    But now that my grave is honored, friends,
    Let it not be because I taught
    The lore of the stars in Knox College,
    But rather for this: that through the stars
    I preached the greatness of man,
    Who is none the less a part of the scheme of things
    For the distance of Spica or the Spiral Nebulae;
    Nor any the less a part of the question
    Of what the drama means.

Edgar Lee Masters