The Unknown

    Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown
    Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.
    As a boy reckless and wanton,
    Wandering with gun in hand through the forest
    Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield,
    I shot a hawk perched on the top
    Of a dead tree. He fell with guttural cry
    At my feet, his wing broken.
    Then I put him in a cage
    Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me
    When I offered him food.
    Daily I search the realms of Hades
    For the soul of the hawk,
    That I may offer him the friendship
    Of one whom life wounded and caged.
    Alexander Throckmorton

    In youth my wings were strong and tireless,
    But I did not know the mountains.
    In age I knew the mountains
    But my weary wings could not follow my vision -
    Genius is wisdom and youth.

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

Joseph Dixon

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Josiah Tompkins

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

Carl Hamblin

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

The World-Saver

Edgar Lee Masters, Simple Poetry

English

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No life in earth, or air, or sky;
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Lost in a cleft! Tis but a stride
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    Do you remember, O Delphic Apollo,
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Elijah Browning

    I was among multitudes of children
    Dancing at the foot of a mountain.
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The Vision

    Of that dear vale where you and I have lain
    Scanning the mysteries of life and death
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Lost And Found.

In the mildest, greenest grove
Blest by sprite or fairy,
Where the melting echoes rove,
Voices sweet and airy;
    Where the streams
    Drink the beams
    Of the Sun,
    As they run
    Riverward
    Through the sward,
A shepherd went astray -
E'en gods have lost their way.

Every bird had sought its nest,
And each flower-spirit
Dreamed of that delicious rest
Mortals ne'er inherit;
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    Bringing airs
    Unawares
    Through the grove,
    Until love
Came down upon his heart,
Refusing to depart.

Hungrily he quaffed the strain,
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From dawn till the last trace of slanting shade
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He paused - at such a height where overhead
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