Webster Ford (Edgar Lee Masters Poems)
Do you remember, O Delphic Apollo, The sunset hour by the river, when Mickey M'Grew Cried, "There's a ghost," and ...
Do you remember, O Delphic Apollo, The sunset hour by the river, when Mickey M'Grew Cried, "There's a ghost," and ...
Oh! the dew-wet grass of the meadow in North Carolina Through which Rebecca followed me wailing, wailing, One child in ...
Often Aner Clute at the gate Refused me the parting kiss, Saying we should be engaged before that; And just ...
It never came into my mind Until I was ready to die That Jenny had loved me to death, with ...
Samuel is forever talking of his elm -- But I did not need to die to learn about roots: I, ...
I leaned against the mantel, sick, sick, Thinking of my failure, looking into the abysm, Weak from the noon-day heat. ...
At first I suspected something -- She acted so calm and absent-minded. And one day I heard the back door ...
Have you seen walking through the village A man with downcast eyes and haggard face? That is my husband who, ...
You would not believe, would you That I came from good Welsh stock? That I was purer blooded than the ...
Together in this grave lie Benjamin Painter, attorney at law, And Nig, his dog, constant companion, solace and friend. Down ...
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked, And I was tarred and feathered, For publishing this on the ...
[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but ...
I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea, And the silence of the city when it ...
Spring and Summer, Fall and Winter and Spring, After each other drifting, past my window drifting! And I lay so ...
Oh many times did Ernest Hyde and I Argue about the freedom of the will. My favorite metaphor was Prickett's ...
At four o'clock in late October I sat alone in the country school-house Back from the road 'mid stricken fields, ...
Toward the last The truth of others was untruth to me; The justice of others injustice to me; Their reasons ...
With our hearts like drifting suns, had we but walked, As often before, the April fields till star-light Silkened over ...
I would have been as great as George Eliot But for an untoward fate. For look at the photograph of ...
I know that he told how I snared his soul With a snare which bled him to death. And all ...
Dust of my dust, And dust with my dust, O, child who died as you entered the world, Dead with ...
I am Minerva, the village poetess, Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the street For my heavy body, ...
Oh, you young radicals and dreamers, You dauntless fledglings Who pass by my headstone, Mock not its record of my ...
I looked like Abraham Lincoln. I was one of you, Spoon River, in all fellowship, But standing for the rights ...
She loved me. Oh! how she loved me! I never had a chance to escape From the day she first ...
You have become a forge of snow-white fire, A crucible of molten steel, O France! Your sons are stars who ...
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