Spoon River Anthology - Internet Archive
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SPOON RIVERANTHOLOGY
THE MACMILLAN COMPANYNKW YORKCHICAGO DALLASBOSTONSAN FRANCISCOATLANTAMACMILLAN &LONDON[ECO., LIMITEDBOMBAY CALCUTTAMELBOURNEMACMILLANCO.OF CANADA,LTD.
SPOON RIVERANTHOLOGYGdgarLeeMastersTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY1919eserved
COPYRIGHT, 1914 AND 1915,BY WILLIAMMARION REEDY.COPYRIGHT, 1915 AND 1916,BYTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY.up andelectrotyped.Published April, 1915.NortoonU tyrezsJ. 8.Berwick & SmithGushing Co.Norwood, Maas., U.S.A.C.
tof.7 \UoMY WIFE
"FOR permission to reprint theSpoon RiverAnthology" in book form, I wish to thank WilliamMarion Reedy, the editor of " Reedy's Mirror,"where it appeared from week to week, beginningwith May 29, 1914; and to express my gratitudeto him for the sympathetic interest which heshowed in the work from the beginning.
CONTENTSAPACKALTMAN, HERMAN232ARMSTRONG, HANNAH229ARNETT, HAROLD47ARNETT, JUSTICEATHEIST, THE VILLAGE53250ATHERTON, Lucius56BALLARD, JOHN/BARKER, AMANDABARRETT, PAULINE251BARTLETT, EZRA121BATESON, MARIE236BEATTY,990TOM155BEETHOVEN, ISAIAHBENNETT, HON. HENRYBINDLE, NICHOLASBLOOD, A.DBLOYD, WENDELL6645CHARLESBLISS, MRS.2669169P.81BONE, RICHARD179BRANSON, CAROLINE218BROWN, JIM112ixv
PACK34BROWN, SARAH268BROWNING, ELIJAHBURKE, ROBERT SOUTHEY70BURLESON, JOHN HORACEBUTLER,77ROY15636CABANIS, FLOSSIECABANIS, JOHN125CALHOUN, GRANVILLE187CALHOUN, HENRY CCAMPBELL, CALVIN205188261CARLISLE, JEREMYCARMAN, EUGENECHENEY, COLUMBUS.134234CHICKEN, IDA110CHILDERS, ELIZABETH198CHURCH, JOHN MCHURCHILL, ALFONSO25385HOMER57J CLARK, NELLIE62CLAPP,CLUTE, ANER55COMPTON, SETHCONANT, EDITHCULBERTSON, E. C176200.183DAVIDSON, ROBERT113DEMENT, SILAS180X
PAGttDIPPOLD THE OPTICIAN191DIXON, JOSEPH262DOBYNS, BATTERTON152DRUMMER, FRANK29DRUMMER, HAREDUNLAP, ENOCH174DYE, SHACK184EHRENHARDT, IMANUELEPILOGUE240FALLAS, STATE'S ATTORNEY3028780FAWCETT, CLARENCE135FERGUSON, WALLACE235FINDLAY, ANTHONY124FLUKE, WILLARD54FOOTE, SEARCY157FORD, WEBSTER270FRASER, BENJAMIN21FRASER, DAISY20FRENCH, CHARLIEFRICKEY, IDA39175CAREER, JAMES255GARDNER, SAMUEL241
PAGEGARRICK, AMELIA122.GODBEY, JACOBGOLDMAN, LE ROYGOODE, WILLIAM244GOODHUE, HARRY CAREYGOODPASTURE, JACOBGRAHAM, MAGRADYGRAY, GEORGE.193204GREEN, AMIGREENE, HAMILTONGRIFFY THE COOPERGUSTINE, DORCASHHAINSFEATHER, BARNEY88HAMBLIN, CARLHATELY, CONSTANCEHATFIELD, AARON265HAWKINS, ELLIOTT17166HAWLEY, JEDUTHANHENRY, CHASEHERNDON, WILLIAMHESTON, ROGERHIGBIE, ARCHIBALDH224117194DocHILL, THE32HOHEIMER, KNOWLT27HOLDEN, BARRY79HILL,HOOKEY, SAM159xii
HOUGHTON, JONATHAN
PAGEKESSLER,145MRSKILLION, CAPTAIN260ORLANDO264KINCAID, RUSSELLKING,217LYMANKEENE, KINSEY14KNAPP, NANCY78208KONOVALOFF, IPPOLITKJUTT,Dow242LLAYTON, HENRY206LIVELY, JUDGE SELAH97MM'CUMBER, DANIEL106MCDOWELL, RUTHERFORD228MCFARLANE, WIDOWMcGEE, FLETCHER1295McGEE, OLLIE4233M'GREW, JENNIEM'GREW, MICKEY13943McGuiRE, JACKJ MCNEELY, MARYMcNEELY, PAUL105.104MCNEELY, WASHINGTONMALLOY, FATHER203MARSH, ZILPHA254MARSHAL, THETOWNMARSHALL, HERBERT1024264xiv
MASON, SEREPTA
PAGEPANTIER, REUBENPEET, REV.17ABNER95PENNINGTON, WILLIE249PENNIWIT, THE ARTISTIllTHE POETPHIPPS, HENRY20989PETIT,POAGUE, PELEGPOLLARD,V1165EDMUND159POTTER, COONEY60PucKETT, LYDIA28PURKAPILE, MRS143PURKAPILE, ROSCOE142PUTT,HOD3REECE, MRS. GEORGE92RHODES, RALPH138RHODES, THOMAS109RICHTER, GUSTAV258ROBBINS, HORTENSE151ROBERTS, ROSIE140Ross,THOMAS, JR94RUSSIAN SONIARUTLEDGE, ANNE86.SAYRE, JOHNNIESCATES,.22038HIRAMSCHIRDING, ALBERT.163.98*
SCHMIDT, FELIXSCHRCEDER177THE FISHERMAN178252SCOTT, JULIANSERSMITH THE DENTIST68SEWALL, HARLAN207SHARP, PERCIVAL161SHAW, "ACE"SHELLEY, PERCY BYSSHE.SHOPE, TENNESSEE MONS, WALTER154SlSSMAN, DlLLARD18131SIEVER,SLACK, MARGARET FULLER48SMITH, LOUISESOLDIERS,63MANY214SOMERS, JONATHAN SWIFT128"SOMERS, JUDGE.13SPARKS, EMILY18SPEARS, Lois52SPOONIAD,THE273STANDARD, W. LLOYD GARRISON136STEWART, LILLIAN150STODDARD, JUDSON263TTANNER, ROBERT FULTONTAYLOR, DEACONxvii658.
41THEODORE THE POETTHORNTON, ENGLISH.173THROCKMORTON, ALEXANDER127TODD, EUGENIA100.144TOMPKINS, JOSIAHTRAINOR, THE DRUGGIST19TRKVELYAN, THOMAS160TRIMBLE, GEORGETRIPP,49HENRY186TUBES, HILDRUP185TURNER, FRANCIS83.168TUTT, OAKSUUNKNOWN, THE126WWASSON, JOHNWASSON, REBECCA213WEBSTER, CHARLES202WEIRAUCH, ADAMWELDY, BUTCH120WERTMAN, ELSAWHEDON, EDITORWHITNEY, HARMONWILEY, REV. LEMUELWILL, ARLOWILLIAM AND EMILY114WILLIAMS, DORA226261321469325974.71xviii
PAGEWILLIAMS, MRS.72WILMANS, HARRYWITT, ZENAS211YEE Bow101ZOLL, PERRY19040
SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGYare Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, theWHEREboozer, the fighter ?All, all, are sleepingonthe hill.One passed in a fever,One was burned in a mine,One was killed in a brawl,One died in a jail,One fell from a bridge toiling forchildrenAll, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleepingWhere areElla, Kate,The tenderheart, thetheMag,Lizzieonthe hill.One died in shameful child-birth,One of a thwarted love,ihill.and Edith,simple soul, the loud, the proud,happy one ?All, all, are sleepingand wifeon the
hands of a brute in aOneat theOneOnesearch for heart's desiretof a broken pride, in theWasfar-away London and Parisafter life inbroughttobrothel,herspace by Ella and Kate andlittleMagAll, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleepingonWhere are Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emilythe hill. ,And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,And Major Walker who had talkedWith venerable men of the revolution ?on the hill.All, all, are sleepingThey brought them dead sons from the waryAndAnddaughterswhomlifehad crushed,their children fatherless, cryingAll, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleepingWhereWhoishill.Old Fiddler Jonesplayed withBravingon thehis ninety years,bared breast,life allthe sleet withDrinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin,Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven ?Lo ! heOfbabbles of the fish-frys of longago,the horse-racesof longago at Clary's Grove,Of what Abe Lincoln saidOne time at Springfield.
IJDttttHEREI lie close tothe graveOfOldBillPiersol,Whogrew rich trading with the Indians, andAfterwards took the bankrupt lawAnd emerged fromMyself grownAnditricher than ever.tired of toilbeholdingwhohow Oldand povertyBill and others grew inwealth,Robbeda traveler one night near Proctor's Grove,him unwittingly while doing so,For the which I was tried and hanged.That was my way of going into bankruptcy.KillingNow we whotook the bankrupt law in our respectivewaysSleep peacefully side by side.
HAVE youA manseen walking through the villagewith downcast eyes and haggard face?That is my husband who, by secret crueltyNever to be told, robbed me of my youth andmybeauty;Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,And with broken pride and shameful humility,Isank into the grave.But what think you gnaws at my husband's heart ?The face of what I was, the face of what he made meThese are driving him to the place where I lie.In death, therefore, Iamavenged.!
jfietcijerSHE tookShe tookmy strength by minutes,my life by hours,She drainedmelike a feveredmoonThat saps the spinning world.The days went by like shadows,The minutes wheeledlike stars.She took the pity fromAnd mademyheart,into smiles.itShe was a hunk of sculptor's clay,My secret thoughts were fingers:They flew behind her pensive browAnd lined it deep with pain.and sagged the cheeks,the eyes with sorrow.soul had entered in the clay,They set theAnd droopedMylips,Fighting like seven devils.It was not mine, it was not hersShe heldit,Modeleda face she hated,AndIIbutits;strugglesa face I feared to see.beat the windows, shook the bolts.hid me in a cornerAnd then she died and haunted me,And hunted me for life.
Robert jhiltonIFa.manbannercould bite the giant handThat catches and destroys him,As I was bitten by a ratWhile demonstrating my patent trap,In my hardware store that day.But a man can never avenge himselfOn the monstrous ogre Life.that's being bornYou enter the roomAnd then you must livework out your;Aha the bait that you crave isA woman with money you want!inviewsoul,:to marry,power in the world.work to do and things to conquerPrestige, place, orButthere'sOh, yes!the wires that screen the bait.At last you get inbut you hear a stepThe ogre, Life, comes into the room,(He was waiting and heard the clang of the:To watch you nibble the wondrous cheese,And stare with his burning eyes at you,And scowl and laugh, and mock and curseRunning up and downspring)you,in the trap,Until your misery bores him.6
Caseins' tnirffcrTHEY havechiseled on my stone the words"His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed inhimThat nature might stand up and say to all the world,This was a man.":Those who knew me smileAs they read this empty rhetoric.Myepitaph should have been"Life was not gentle to him,Andthe elements so mixed in:himThat he made warfare on life,In the which he was slain."WhileIlivedcould not cope with slanderousItongues,Now that I am dead IGraven by afool!must submit to an epitaph
MY life'sSaveOnblossom might have bloomed on all sideswind which stunted my petalsfor a bitterthe dustMy floweringYeme which youthe side ofFromI liftsidein the village could see.a voice of protestyou never sawye are fools indeeddo not know the ways of the windthe unseen forcesliving ones,WhoAnd:!That govern theprocesses oflife.
gmantmHENRY!3arUrrmewith child,could not bring forth lifeWithout losing my own.In my youth therefore I entered the portals of dust.gotKnowing thatIit is believed in the village where I livedThat Henry loved me with a husband's love,But I proclaim from the dustThat he slew me to gratify his hatred.Traveler,
ConstanceYoupraisemyS?atel)?self-sacrifice,Spoon River,In rearing Irene and Mary,Orphans ofAnd youmyolder sister!censure Irene andMaryFor their contempt for meBut praise not my self-sacrifice,!Andcensure not their contempt ;I cared for them, true enoughBut I poisoned my benefactionsIreared them,With constant reminders of!their dependence.10
INlife IWhenIwas the town drunkarddied the priest denied;meburialIn holy ground.The which redoundedtomyFor the Protestants boughtAndburiedmybodygood fortune.this lot,here,Close to the grave of the banker Nicholas,And of his wife Priscilla.Take note, ye prudent and pious souls,Of the cross-currents in lifeWhich bring honor to the dead, who livediiinshame.
CarepYou never marveled, dullards of Spoon River,When Chase Henry voted against the saloonsTo revenge himself for being shut off.But none of you was keen enoughTofollowmysteps, or traceme homeAs Chase's spiritual brother.Do you remember when I foughtThe bank and the courthouse ring,For pocketing the interest on public fundsI fought our leading citizens?And whenFor making the poor the pack-horses of the taxesI fought the water works?And whenFor stealingAnd whenWhostreetsand raising ratesfought the businessfought me in these fights ?I?menThen do you rememberThat staggering up from the wreck of:AndIdefeat,the wreck of a ruined career,slipped fromHidden frommycloakmylast ideal,eyes until then,Like the cherished jawbone of an ass,And smote the bank and the water works,allAnd the business men with prohibition,And made Spoon River pay the costOf the fights that I had lost.12
Howdoesithappen,tellme,who was most erudite of lawyers,Who knew Blackstone and CokeAlmost by heart, who made the greatest speechThe court-house ever heard, and wroteA brief that won the praise of Justice BreeseThatIHowdoesThatI lieithappen,tellme,here unmarked, forgotten,While Chase Henry, the town drunkard,Has a marble block, topped by an urn,Wherein Nature, in a mood ironical,Has sown a flowering weed ?
fceeneYOURattention,Thomas Rhodes,president of thebank;Coolbaugh Whedon, editor of the Argus ;Rev. Peet, pastor of the leading church ;A. D. Blood, several timesAndfinally all ofMayorof Spoon River ;you, members of the Social PurityClubYour attentionto Cambronne's dying words,Standing with the heroic remnantOf Napoleon's guard on Mount Saint JeanAt the battle field of Waterloo,WhenMaitland, the Englishman, called to them"Surrender, brave Frenchmen !"There at close of day with the battle hopelesslyAnd hordes of men no longer the army:lost,Of the great NapoleonStreamed from thefield likeragged stripsOf thunder clouds in the storm.Well, what Cambronne said to MaitlandEre the English fire made smooth the browAgainst the sinking light of daySay I to you, and all of you,AndAndto you,IOworld.charge you to carveUpon mystone.itof thehill
orney at law,AndNig, his dog, constant companion, solace andfriend.Downthe gray road, friends, children,men andwomen,Passing one by one out ofWith Nigme tillI was alonecomrade in drink.knew aspiration and sawlife, leftfor partner, bed-fellow,In the morning oflifeIglory.ThenWithshe,whoa snaresurvives me, snaredwhich bledmemysoulto death,once strong of will, lay broken, indifferent,Living with Nig in a room back of a dingy office.Under my jaw-bone is snuggled the bony nose ofTill I,NigOurstoryis lostin silence.Goby,madworld!
HBenfaminuIKNOWWiththat he told thata snare which bledIhim to death.And all the men loved him,And most of the women pitiedBut suppose you are} 0anttersnared his soulhim.really a lady,and have delicatetastes,AndAndloathe the smell of whiskey and onions.the rhythm of Wordsworth's "Ode" runs inyour ears,While he goes about from morningRepeating"Oh, whyAndYouAndbits of thattillcommonnightthingshould the spirit of mortal be proud ?"then, suppose;:woman well endowed,only man with whom the law andare athemoralityPermit you to have the marital relationIs the very man that fills you withdisgustwhile you think ofEvery time you think of itEvery time you see him ?That's why I drove him away from homeToliveBack ofwith his dogin aitdingy roomhis office.16
HeubenJjOantierWELL, Emily Sparks, your prayers were not wasted,Your love was not all in vain.I owe whatever I was in lifeTo your hope that would not give me up,To your love that saw me still as good.Dear Emily Sparks, let me tell you the story.Ipass the effect ofThemilliner'sAndoutImyfather and motherdaughter madewentme;troublein the world,Where I passed through every peril knownOf wine and women and joy of life.One night, in a room in the Rue de Rivoli,Iwas drinking wine with a black-eyedAndthe tearsswamintomycocotte,eyes.She thought they were amorous tears and smiledFor thought of her conquest over me.Butmysoulwas three thousand miles away,In the days when you taught me in Spoon River.And just because you no more could love me,Nor pray for me, nor write me letters,The eternal silence of you spoke instead.AndAsthe black-eyed cocotte took the tears for hers,well as the deceiving kisses I gave her.Somehow, from that hour,Dear Emily Sparks!17Ihad a new vision
CBmilvWHEREis my boy, my boyIn what far part of the world ?The boy I loved best of all in the schoolI,?the teacher, the old maid, the virgin heart,Who made them all my children.Did I know my boy aright,Thinking of him asspirit aflame,Active, ever aspiringOh, boy, boy, forInmanyprayed and prayedthe letterIbeautiful love of ChristAnd whether youMyIa watchful hour at night,Do you rememberOf the?whomever tookitwrote you?or not,boy, wherever you are,WorkThatMayforyoursoul's sake,the clay of you, all of the dross of you,yield to the fire of you,allTill the fireisNothing butnothing but lightlight!.!18
Crainor,ONLYthe chemist canttjeDruggisttell,and not always thechemist,Whatwill resultfrom compoundingFluids or solids.And who can tellHow men and women will interactOn each other, or what children willresult?There were Benjamin Pantier and his wife,Good in themselves, but evil toward each otherHeoxygen, she hydrogen,Their son, a devastating fire.ITrainor, the druggist, a mixer of chemicals,Killed whilemaking an experiment,Lived unwedded.:
jfratferDID you ever hear of Editor WhedonGiving to the public treasury any of the money hereceivedFor supporting candidatesOrfor writingfor officeToget people to investOrfor suppressing the factsWhen?up the canning factory?about the bank,was rotten and ready to break ?Did you ever hear of the Circuit JudgeHelping anyone except the "Q" railroad,Or the bankers ? Or did Rev. Peet or Rev. SibleyGive any part of their salary, earned by keeping still,itOr speaking outas the leaders wishedthemto do,Tothe building of the water works ?But IDaisy Fraser who always passedAlong thestreetsthrough rows of nods and smiles,such as "there she goes,"And coughs and wordsNever was taken before Justice ArnettWithout contributing ten dollars and costsTothe school fund of Spoon River!20
BenfaminTHEIRspiritsbeat upon mineLike the wings of a thousandIclosedIclosedmymyeyes andbutterflies.felt their spiritseyes, yet Iknew whenvibrating.their lashesFringed their cheeks from downcast eyes,And when they turned their headsAnd when their garments clung to them,;Orfrom them, in exquisite draperies.watched my ecstasyfellTheirspiritsWith wide looks ofTheirspiritsstarry unconcern.looked uponmytorture;They drank it as it were the water of life;With reddened cheeks, brightened eyesThe rising flame of my soul made their spiritsgilt,Like the wings of a butterfly drifting suddenly intosunlight.And theyButincried totakinglifemeforlife, life, life.for myself,In seizing and crushing their souls,a child crushes grapes and drinksAsFromitspalms the purplejuice,came to this wingless void,Where neither red, nor gold, nor wine,Nor the rhythm of life is known.I21
AM Minerva, the village poetess,Hooted at, jeered at by the Yahoos of the streetFor my heavy body, cock-eye, and rolling walk,!IAnT allthe morewherr utcTi Weldy me after a brutal hunt.He left me to my fate with Doctor MeyersAnd I sank into death, growing numb fromCaptured;the feetup,Like one stepping deeper and deeper into a stream ofice.Will some one go to the village newspaper,And gather into a book the verses I wrote ?Ithirsted so for love!Ihungered so forlife!
"You would"2fltt&fgnattonnot believe, would you,came from good Welsh stock ?I was purer blooded than the white trash here ?And of more direct lineage than the New EnglandersAnd Virginians of Spoon River ?ThatThatIYou would not believe that I had beenAnd read some books.You saw me only as a run-down man,With mattedAndhairto schooland beardragged clothes.Sometimes a man'slifeturns into a cancerFrom being bruised and continuallyAnd swells into a purplish mass,bruised,Like growths on stalks of corn.Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of lifeInto which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,Witha slattern for a wife,and poor Minerva,daughter,Whomyou tormented and drove to death.SoI crept, crept, likeOfmya snail through the dayslife.No more youhearmyfootsteps in the morning,Resounding on the hollow sidewalk,Going to the grocery store for aAnd a nickel's worth of bacon.23littlecorn mealmy
EDoctorNoother man, unlessDid moreAndAndIIallitwas Doc Hill,town thanfor people in thisI.the weak, the halt, the improvidentthose who could not pay flocked to me.was good-hearted, easy Doctor Meyers.was healthy, happy, in comfortable fortune,Blessed with a congenial mate, my children raised,wedded, doing well in the world.AllAnd then one night, Minerva, the poetess,Came to me in her trouble, crying.I triedto help her outshe diedindicted me, the newspapers disgracedwife perished of a broken heart.TheyMyAnd pneumoniafinishedme.me,
HEprotestedall his lifeThe newspaperslongabout him villainously ;That he was not at fault for Minerva's fall,But onlyliedtried to help her.Poor soul so sunkThat even tryingHe had brokenin sinhe could not seeto help her, as he calledthe lawhuman andPassers by, an ancient admonition toIfit,divine.you:your ways would be ways of pleasantness,Andall your pathways peace,Love God and keep his commandments.
AFTERIgot religion and steadied downa job in the canning works,They gave meAnd every morning I had to fillThe tank in the yard with gasoline,Thatfed the blow-f
keene,kinsey 14 knapp,nancy 78 konovaloff,ippolit 208 kjutt,dow 242 l layton,henry 206 lively,judgeselah 97 m m'cumber,daniel 106 mcdowell,rutherford 228 mcfarlane,widow 129 mcgee,fletcher 5 mcgee,ollie 4 m'grew,jennie 233 m'grew,mickey 139 jmcguire,jack 43 mcneely,mary 105 mcneely,paul. . 104 mcneely,washington 102 malloy,father 203 marsh .
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tartuFFe Molière Translated into English Verse by Richard Wilbur tHe CruCIBle Arthur Miller Glenn David Young KIM’S ConVenIenCe Ins Choi Spoon rIVer Adapted by Mike Ross and Albert Schultz, Composed by Mike Ross Based on Spoon River Anthology by Edgar Lee Masters a CHrIStMaS Carol
The Norton Anthology of American Literature, vol. A, Norton, 2011. Note: Cite an entire anthology using the editors instead of the author(s) because the editors compile the work. Book with Author and Editor/Translator Article in Reference Work Entire Anthology (An anthology
Notes on Pessoa, Inscriptions, and the Greek Anthology Kenneth Haynes* Keywords Fernando Pessoa, Epigram, English Poetry, Greek Anthology, Inscriptions. Abstract The Greek Anthology, in the edition and translation of William Roger Paton, was the model for the genre, mood, title, and
Students studying the English Language (Specification A) qualification must study all the English Language non-fiction texts in this anthology in preparation for Paper 1 Section A of the examination. Students will be asked to analyse an anthology text and compare it to an unseen non-fiction piece. Copies of the anthology must not be taken into the
47. Upper Wapsipinicon River 48. C eda rRiv 49. Shell Rock River 50. W in ebago Rv r 51. Des Moines River - Headwaters 52. Lower Des Moines River 53. East Fork Des Moines River 54. B o is d eS ux Rv r 55. Mustinka River 56. Otter Tail River 57. Upper Red River of the North 58. Buffalo River
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