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Or a meadow to walk through to the river？
The wind's in the corn； you rub your hands
For beeves hereafter ready for market；
Or else you hear the rustle of skirts
Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove。
To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust
Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth；
They looked to me like Red…Head Sammy
Stepping it off； to 〃Toor…a…Loor。〃
How could I till my forty acres
Not to speak of getting more；
With a medley of horns； bassoons and piccolos
Stirred in my brain by crows and robins
And the creak of a wind…millonly these？
And I never started to plow in my life
That some one did not stop in the road
And take me away to a dance or picnic。
I ended up with forty acres；
I ended up with a broken fiddle
And a broken laugh； and a thousand memories；
And not a single regret。
Nellie Clark
I WAS only eight years old；
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it； except
That I was frightened and told my
Mother； And that my Father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie； who was a big boy；
Fifteen years old； except for his Mother。
Nevertheless the story clung to me。
But the man who married me； a widower of thirty…five；
Was a newcomer and never heard it
OTill two years after we were married。
Then he considered himself cheated；
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin。
Well； he deserted me； and I died
The following winter。
Louise Smith
HERBERT broke our engagement of eight years
When Annabelle returned to the village From the
Seminary； ah me！
If I had let my love for him alone
It might have grown into a beautiful sorrow
Who knows？ filling my life with healing fragrance。
But I tortured it； I poisoned it
I blinded its eyes； and it became hatred
Deadly ivy instead of clematis。
And my soul fell from its support
Its tendrils tangled in decay。
Do not let the will play gardener to your soul
Unless you are sure
It is wiser than your soul's nature。
Herbert Marshall
ALL your sorrow； Louise； and hatred of me
Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
Of spirit and contempt of your soul's rights
Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you。
You really grew to hate me for love of me；
Because I was your soul's happiness；
Formed and tempered
To solve your life for you； and would not。
But you were my misery。
If you had been
My happiness would I not have clung to you？
This is life's sorrow：
That one can be happy only where two are；
And that our hearts are drawn to stars
Which want us not。
George Gray
I HAVE studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor。
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life。
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment；
Sorrow knocked at my door； but I was afraid；
Ambition called to me； but I dreaded the chances。
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life。
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat。
To put meaning in one's life may end in madness；
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid。
Hon。 Henry Bennett
IT never came into my mind
Until I was ready to die
That Jenny had loved me to death； with malice of heart。
For I was seventy； she was thirtyfive；
And I wore myself to a shadow trying to husband
Jenny； rosy Jenny full of the ardor of life。
For all my wisdom and grace of mind
Gave her no delight at all； in very truth；
But ever and anon she spoke of the giant strength
Of Willard Shafer； and of his wonderful feat
Of lifting a traction engine out of the ditch
One time at Georgie Kirby's。
So Jenny inherited my fortune and married Willard
That mount of brawn！ That clownish soul！
Griffy the Cooper
THE cooper should know about tubs。
But I learned about life as well；
And you who loiter around these graves
Think you know life。
You think your eye sweeps about a wide horizon； perhaps；
In truth you are only looking around the interior of your tub。
You cannot lift yourself to its rim
And see the outer world of things；
And at the same time see yourself。
You are submerged in the tub of yourself
Taboos and rules and appearances；
Are the staves of your tub。
Break them and dispel the witchcraft
Of thinking your tub is life
And that you know life。
A。 D。 Blood
IF YOU in the village think that my work was a good one；
Who closed the saloons and stopped all playing at cards；
And haled old Daisy Fraser before Justice Arnett；
In many a crusade to purge the people of sin；
Why do you let the milliner's daughter Dora；
And the worthless son of Benjamin Pantier
Nightly make my grave their unholy pillow？
Dora Williams
WHEN Reuben Pantier ran away and threw me
I went to Springfield。 There I met a lush；
Whose father just deceased left him a fortune。
He married me when drunk。
My life was wretched。
A year passed and one day they found him dead。
That made me rich。 I moved on to Chicago。
After a time met Tyler Rountree； villain。
I moved on to New York。 A gray…haired magnate
Went mad about meso another fortune。
He died one night right in my arms； you know。
（I saw his purple face for years thereafter。 ）
There was almost a scandal。
I moved on； This time to Paris。 I was now a woman；
Insidious； subtle； versed in the world and rich。
My sweet apartment near the Champs Elys？es
Became a center for all sorts of people；
Musicians； poets； dandies； artists； nobles；
Where we spoke French and German； Italian； English。
I wed Count Navigato； native of Cenoa。
We went to Rome。 He poisoned me； I think。
Now in the Campo Santo overlooking
The sea where young Columbus dreamed new worlds；
See what they chiseled： 〃Contessa Navigato
Implora eterna quiete。〃
Mrs。 Williams
I WAS the milliner
Talked about； lied about；
Mother of Dora；
Whose strange disappearance
Was charged to her rearing。
My eye quick to beauty
Saw much beside ribbons
And buckles and feathers
And leghorns and felts；
To set off sweet faces；
And dark hair and gold。
One thing I will tell you
And one I will ask：
The stealers of husbands
Wear powder and trinkets；
And fashionable hats。
Wives； wear them yourselves。
Hats may make divorces
They also prevent them。
Well now； let me ask you：
If all of the children； born here in Spoon River
Had been reared by the
County； somewhere on a farm；
And the fathers and mothers had been given their freedom
To live and enjoy； change mates if they wished；
Do you think that Spoon River
Had been any the worse？
William and Emily
THERE is something about
Death Like love itself！
If with some one with whom you have known passion
And the glow of youthful love；
You also； after years of life
Together； feel the sinking of the fire
And thus fade away together；
Gradually； faintly； delicately；
As it were in each other's arms；
Passing from the familiar room
That is a power of unison between souls
Like love itself！
The Circuit Judge
TAKE note； passers…by； of the sharp erosions
Eaten in my head…stone by the wind and rain
Almost as if an intangible Nemesis or hatred
Were marking scores against me；
But to de