One day Mrs。 Greene said she understood；
And would make no trouble for me；
And； being childless； would adopt it。
（He had given her a farm to be still。 ）
So she hid in the house and sent out rumors；
As if it were going to happen to her。
And all went well and the child was born
They were so kind to me。
Later I married Gus Wertman； and years passed。
But at political rallies when sitters…by thought I was crying
At the eloquence of Hamilton Greene
That was not it。 No！ I wanted to say：
That's my son！
That's my son。
Hamilton Greene
I WAS the only child of Frances Harris of Virginia
And Thomas Greene of Kentucky；
Of valiant and honorable blood both。
To them I owe all that I became；
Judge； member of Congress； leader in the State。
From my mother I inherited
Vivacity； fancy； language；
From my father will； judgment； logic。
All honor to them
For what service I was to the people！
Ernest Hyde
MY mind was a mirror：
It saw what it saw； it knew what it knew。
In youth my mind was just a mirror In a rapidly flying car；
Which catches and loses bits of the landscape。
Then in time
Great scratches were made on the mirror；
Letting the outside world come in；
And letting my inner self look out。
For this is the birth of the soul in sorrow；
A birth with gains and losses。
The mind sees the world as a thing apart；
And the soul makes the world at one with itself。
A mirror scratched reflects no image
And this is the silence of wisdom。
Roger Heston
OH many times did Ernest Hyde and I
Argue about the freedom of the will。
My favorite metaphor was Prickett's cow
Roped out to grass； and free you know as far
As the length of the rope。
One day while arguing so； watching the cow
Pull at the rope to get beyond the circle
Which she had eaten bare；
Out came the stake； and tossing up her head；
She ran for us。
〃What's that； free…will or what？〃 said Ernest； running。
I fell just as she gored me to my death。
Amos Sibley
NOT character； not fortitude； not patience
Were mine； the which the village thought I had
In bearing with my wife； while preaching on；
Doing the work God chose for me。
I loathed her as a termagant； as a wanton。
I knew of her adulteries； every one。
But even so； if I divorced the woman
I must forsake the ministry。
Therefore to do God's work and have it crop；
I bore with her
So lied I to myself
So lied I to Spoon River！
Yet I tried lecturing； ran for the legislature；
Canvassed for books； with just the thought in mind：
If I make money thus；
I will divorce her。
Mrs。 Sibley
THE secret of the stars gravitation。
The secret of the earth layers of rock。
The secret of the soil to receive seed。
The secret of the seed the germ。
The secret of man the sower。
The secret of woman the soil。
My secret： Under a mound that you shall never find。
Adam Weirauch
I WAS crushed between Altgeld and Armour。
I lost many friends； much time and money
Fighting for Altgeld whom Editor Whedon
Denounced as the candidate of gamblers and anarchists。
Then Armour started to ship dressed meat to Spoon River；
Forcing me to shut down my slaughter…house
And my butcher shop went all to pieces。
The new forces of Altgeld and Armour caught me
At the same time。 I thought it due me； to recoup the money I lost
And to make good the friends that left me；
For the Governor to appoint me Canal Commissioner。
Instead he appointed Whedon of the Spoon River Argus；
So I ran for the legislature and was elected。
I said to hell with principle and sold my vote
On Charles T。 Yerkes' street…car franchise。
Of course I was one of the fellows they caught。
Who was it； Armour； Altgeld or myself
That ruined me？
Ezra Bartlett
A CHAPLAIN in the army；
A chaplain in the prisons；
An exhorter in Spoon River；
Drunk with divinity； Spoon River
Yet bringing poor Eliza Johnson to shame；
And myself to scorn and wretchedness。
But why will you never see that love of women；
And even love of wine；
Are the stimulants by which the soul； hungering for divinity；
Reaches the ecstatic vision
And sees the celestial outposts？
Only after many trials for strength；
Only when all stimulants fail；
Does the aspiring soul
By its own sheer power
Find the divine
By resting upon itself。
Amelia Garrick
YES； here I lie close to a stunted rose bush
In a forgotten place near the fence
Where the thickets from Siever's woods
Have crept over； growing sparsely。
And you； you are a leader in New York；
The wife of a noted millionaire；
A name in the society columns；
Beautiful； admired； magnified perhaps
By the mirage of distance。
You have succeeded；
I have failed In the eyes of the world。
You are alive； I am dead。
Yet I know that I vanquished your spirit；
And I know that lying here far from you；
Unheard of among your great friends
In the brilliant world where you move；
I am really the unconquerable power over your life
That robs it of complete triumph。
John Hancock Otis
As to democracy； fellow citizens；
Are you not prepared to admit
That l； who inherited riches and was to the manor born；
Was second to none in Spoon River
In my devotion to the cause of Liberty？
While my contemporary； Anthony Findlay；
Born in a shanty and beginning life
As a water carrier to the section hands；
Then becoming a section hand when he was grown；
Afterwards foreman of the gang； until he rose
To the superintendency of the railroad；
Living in Chicago；
Was a veritable slave driver；
Grinding the faces of labor；
And a bitter enemy of democracy。
And I say to you； Spoon River；
And to you； O republic；
Beware of the man who rises to power
From one suspender。
The Unknown
YE aspiring ones； listen to the story of the unknown
Who lies here with no stone to mark the place。
As a boy reckless and wanton；
Wandering with gun in hand through the forest
Near the mansion of Aaron Hatfield；
I shot a hawk perched on the top
Of a dead tree。 He fell with guttural cry
At my feet； his wing broken。
Then I put him in a cage
Where he lived many days cawing angrily at me
When I offered him food。
Daily I search the realms of Hades
For the soul of the hawk；
That I may offer him the friendship
Of one whom life wounded and caged。
Alexander Throckmorton
IN youth my wings were strong and tireless；
But I did not know the mountains。
In age I knew the mountains
But my weary wings could not follow my vision
Genius is wisdom and youth。
Jonathan Swift Somers （Author of the Spooniad）
AFTER you have enriched your soul
To the highest point；
With books； thought； suffering；
The understanding of many personalities；
The power to interpret glances； silences；
The pauses in momentous transformations；
The genius of divination and prophecy；
So that you feel able at times to hold the world
In the hollow of your hand；
Then； if； by the crowding of so many powers
Into the compass of your soul；
Your soul takes fire；
And in the conflagration of your soul
The evil of the world is lighted up and made clear
Be thankful if in that hour of supreme vision
Life does not fiddle。
Widow McFarlane
I WAS the Widow McFarlane；
Weaver of carpets for all the village。
And I pity you still at the loom of life；
You who are singing to the shuttle
And lovingly watching the work of your hands；
If you reach the day of hate； of terrible truth。
For the cloth of life is woven； you know；
To a pattern hidden under the loom
A pattern you never see！
And you weave high…hearted； singing； singing；
You guard the threads of love and friendship
For noble figures in gold and purple。
And long after other eyes can see
You have woven a moon…white strip of cloth；
You laugh in your strength； for Hope overlays it
With shapes of love and beauty。
The loom stops short！
The pattern's out
You're alone in the room！
You have woven a shroud
And hate of it lays you in it。
Carl Hamblin
THE press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked；
And I was tarred and feathered；
For publishing this on the day the
Anarchists were hanged in Chicago：
〃l saw a beautiful woman with bandaged eyes
Standing on the steps of a marble temple。
Great multitudes passed in front of her；
Lifting their faces to her imploringly。
In her left hand she held a sword。
She was brandishing the sword；
Sometimes striking a child； again a laborer；
Again a slinking woman； again a lunatic。
In her right hand she held a scale；
Into the scale pieces of gold were tossed
By those who dodged the strokes of the sword。
A man in a black gown read from a manuscript：
〃She is no respecter of persons。〃
Then a youth wearing a red cap
Leaped to her side and snatched away the bandage。
And lo； the lashes had been eaten away
From the oozy eye…lids；
The eye…balls were seared with a milky mucus；
The madness of a dying soul
Was written on her face
But the multitude saw why she wore the bandage。〃
Editor Whedon
To be able to see every side of every question；
To be on every side； to be everything； to be nothing long；
To pervert truth； to ride it for a purpose；
To use great feelings and passions of the human family
For base designs； for cunning ends；
To wear a mask like the Greek actors
Your eight…page paper behind which you huddle；
Bawling through the megaphone of big type：
〃This is I； t