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That those who first oppose a good work
Seize it and make it their own；
When the cornerstone is laid；
And memorial tablets are erected。
Shack Dye
THE white men played all sorts of jokes on me。
They took big fish off my hook
And put little ones on； while I was away
Getting a stringer； and made me believe
I hadn't seen aright the fish I had caught。
When Burr Robbins； circus came to town
They got the ring master to let a tame leopard
Into the ring； and made me believe
I was whipping a wild beast like Samson
When l； for an offer of fifty dollars；
Dragged him out to his cage。
One time I entered my blacksmith shop
And shook as I saw some horse…shoes crawling
Across the floor； as if alive
Walter Simmons had put a magnet
Under the barrel of water。
Yet everyone of you； you white men；
Was fooled about fish and about leopards too；
And you didn't know any more than the horse…shoes did
What moved you about Spoon River。
Hildrup Tubbs
I MADE two fights for the people。
First I left my party； bearing the gonfalon
Of independence； for reform； and was defeated。
Next I used my rebel strength
To capture the standard of my old party
And I captured it； but I was defeated。
Discredited and discarded； misanthropical；
I turned to the solace of gold
And I used my remnant of power
To fasten myself like a saprophyte
Upon the putrescent carcass
Of Thomas Rhodes； bankrupt bank；
As assignee of the fund。
Everyone now turned from me。
My hair grew white；
My purple lusts grew gray；
Tobacco and whisky lost their savor
And for years Death ignored me
As he does a hog。
Henry Tripp
THE bank broke and I lost my savings。
I was sick of the tiresome game in Spoon River
And I made up my mind to run away
And leave my place in life and my family；
But just as the midnight train pulled in；
Quick off the steps jumped Cully Green
And Martin Vise； and began to fight
To settle their ancient rivalry；
Striking each other with fists that sounded
Like the blows of knotted clubs。
Now it seemed to me that Cully was winning；
When his bloody face broke into a grin
Of sickly cowardice； leaning on Martin
And whining out 〃We're good friends； Mart；
You know that I'm your friend。〃
But a terrible punch from Martin knocked him
Around and around and into a heap。
And then they arrested me as a witness；
And I lost my train and staid in Spoon River
To wage my battle of life to the end。
Oh； Cully Green； you were my savior
You； so ashamed and drooped for years；
Loitering listless about the streets；
And tying rags ；round your festering soul；
Who failed to fight it out。
Granville Calhoun
I WANTED to be County Judge
One more term； so as to round out a service
Of thirty years。
But my friends left me and joined my enemies；
And they elected a new man。
Then a spirit of revenge seized me；
And I infected my four sons with it；
And I brooded upon retaliation；
Until the great physician； Nature；
Smote me through with paralysis
To give my soul and body a rest。
Did my sons get power and money？
Did they serve the people or yoke them；
To till and harvest fields of self？
For how could they ever forget
My face at my bed…room window；
Sitting helpless amid my golden cages
Of singing canaries；
Looking at the old court…house？
Henry C。 Calhoun
I REACHED the highest place in Spoon River；
But through what bitterness of spirit！
The face of my father； sitting speechless；
Child…like； watching his canaries；
And looking at the court…house window
Of the county judge's room；
And his admonitions to me to seek
My own in life； and punish Spoon River
To avenge the wrong the people did him；
Filled me with furious energy
To seek for wealth and seek for power。
But what did he do but send me along
The path that leads to the grove of the Furies？
I followed the path and I tell you this：
On the way to the grove you'll pass the Fates；
Shadow…eyed； bent over their weaving。
Stop for a moment； and if you see
The thread of revenge leap out of the shuttle
Then quickly snatch from Atropos
The shears and cut it； lest your sons
And the children of them and their children
Wear the envenomed robe。
Alfred Moir
WHY was I not devoured by self…contempt；
And rotted down by indifference
And impotent revolt like Indignation Jones？
Why； with all of my errant steps
Did I miss the fate of Willard Fluke？
And why； though I stood at Burchard's bar；
As a sort of decoy for the house to the boys
To buy the drinks； did the curse of drink
Fall on me like rain that runs off；
Leaving the soul of me dry and clean？
And why did I never kill a man Like Jack McGuire？
But instead I mounted a little in life；
And I owe it all to a book I read。
But why did I go to Mason City；
Where I chanced to see the book in a window；
With its garish cover luring my eye？
And why did my soul respond to the book；
As I read it over and over？
Perry Zoll
MY thanks； friends of the
County Scientific Association；
For this modest boulder；
And its little tablet of bronze。
Twice I tried to join your honored body；
And was rejected
And when my little brochure
On the intelligence of plants
Began to attract attention
You almost voted me in。
After that I grew beyond the need of you
And your recognition。
Yet I do not reject your memorial stone
Seeing that I should； in so doing；
Deprive you of honor to yourselves。
Magrady Graham
TELL me； was Altgeld elected Governor？
For when the returns began to come in
And Cleveland was sweeping the East
It was too much for you； poor old heart；
Who had striven for democracy
In the long； long years of defeat。
And like a watch that is worn
I felt you growing slower until you stopped。
Tell me； was Altgeld elected；
And what did he do？
Did they bring his head on a platter to a dancer；
Or did he triumph for the people？
For when I saw him
And took his hand；
The child…like blueness of his eyes
Moved me to tears；
And there was an air of eternity about him；
Like the cold； clear light that rests at dawn
On the hills！
Archibald Higbie
I LOATHED YOU； Spoon River。
I tried to rise above you；
I was ashamed of you。
I despised you
As the place of my nativity。
And there in Rome； among the artists；
Speaking Italian； speaking French；
I seemed to myself at times to be free
Of every trace of my origin。
I seemed to be reaching the heights of art
And to breathe the air that the masters breathed
And to see the world with their eyes。
But still they'd pass my work and say：
〃What are you driving at； my friend？
Sometimes the face looks like Apollo's
At others it has a trace of Lincoln's。〃
There was no culture； you know； in Spoon River
And I burned with shame and held my peace。
And what could I do； all covered over
And weighted down with western soil
Except aspire； and pray for another
Birth in the world； with all of Spoon River
Rooted out of my soul？
Tom Merritt
AT first I suspected something
She acted so calm and absent…minded。
And one day I heard the back door shut
As I entered the front； and I saw him slink
Back of the smokehouse into the lot
And run across the field。
And I meant to kill him on sight。
But that day； walking near Fourth Bridge
Without a stick or a stone at ha