One day while arguing so, watching the cow Roped out to grass, and free you know as far The mind sees the world as a thing apart,Īnd the soul makes the world at one with itself. “Act well your part, there all the honor lies.”Ī picture that sank into my heart at last
Nightly make my grave their unholy pillow. Why do you let the milliner’s daughter Dora,Īnd the worthless son of Benjamin Pantier It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness, When no soul may ever escape the eternal destiny of life. Of what use is it To rid one’s self of the world, Looking for the souls of them to come out, Hiding in burrows of fate amid great cities, These are driving him to the place where I lie.īut later your vision watched for men and women The face of what I was, the face of what he made me! Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,Īnd with broken pride and shameful humility,īut what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart. Never to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty That is my husband who, by secret cruelty Have you seen walking through the villageĪ Man with downcast eyes and haggard face. It deserves a much thorough reading perhaps through an academic lens.Ī selection of my favourite passages from the book Vivid yet fantastical, Edgar Lee Masters’ “ Spoon River Anthology” is an oeuvre to life lived and life ceased. As they recall their kaleidoscopic life journeys in verses, the reader sways at the sights and sounds of the rhythm of their words. The dead are reconciled and separated, heartbroken and lovelorn, they are the victims and perpetrators of grievous crimes, they are passive observers and active participants of life above the soil in which they are buried. They talk about love, life, death, fate and will about human footprint on Earth in the shape of politics and wars, religion and courthouses that dole out just and unjust sentences. Beautiful meditations by a myriad of deceased characters – all residents of Spoon River.
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