George Gray (Edgar Lee Masters Poems)
I have studied many times The marble which was chiseled for me -- A boat with a furled sail at ...
I have studied many times The marble which was chiseled for me -- A boat with a furled sail at ...
Oh many times did Ernest Hyde and I Argue about the freedom of the will. My favorite metaphor was Prickett's ...
Henry got me with child, Knowing that I could not bring forth life Without losing my own. In my youth ...
I never saw any difference Between playing cards for money And selling real estate, Practicing law, banking, or anything else. ...
Silent before the jury, Returning no word to the judge when he asked me If I had aught to say ...
If I could have lived another year I could have finished my flying machine, And become rich and famous. Hence ...
I was just turned twenty-one, And Henry Phipps, the Sunday-school superintendent, Made a speech in Bindle's Opera House. "The honor ...
I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen ...
They would have lynched me Had I not been secretly hurried away To the jail at Peoria. And yet I ...
Why was I not devoured by self-contempt, And rotted down by indifference And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones? Why, with ...
The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you ...
Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick, Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel-- Faint iambics that the ...
Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown Who lies here with no stone to mark the place. ...
Out of me unworthy and unknown The vibrations of deathless music; 'With malice toward none, with charity for all.' Out ...
They got me into the Sunday-school In Spoon River And tried to get me to drop Confucius for Jesus. I ...
Very well, you liberals, And navigators into realms intellectual, You sailors through heights imaginative, Blown about by erratic currents, tumbling ...
Not "a youth with hoary head and haggard eye," But an old man with a smooth skin And black hair! ...
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins, Born in a cottage near the grist-mill, Reared in the mansion there on ...
Almost the shell of a woman after the surgeon's knife! And almost a year to creep back into strength, Till ...
What but the love of God could have softened And made forgiving the people of Spoon River Toward me who ...
There is a quiet in my heart Like on who rests from days of pain. Outside, the sparrows on the ...
When I first came to Spoon River I did not know whether what they told me Was true or false. ...
We quarreled that morning, For he was sixty-five, and I was thirty, And I was nervous and heavy with the ...
Did you ever find out which of the boys it was Who snapped the toy pistol against my hand? There ...
Jonas Keene thought his lot a hard one Because his children were all failures. But I know of a fate ...
Suppose it is nothing but the hive: That there are drones and workers And queens, and nothing but storing honey ...
You have become a forge of snow-white fire, A crucible of molten steel, O France! Your sons are stars who ...
What do you see now? Globes of red, yellow, purple. Just a moment! And now? My father and mother and ...
Both for the country and for the man, And for a country as well as a man, 'Tis better to ...
Do the boys and girls still go to Siever's For cider, after school, in late September? Or gather hazel nuts ...
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