Out of me unworthy and unknown …
Edgar Lee Masters
I loathed you, Spoon River. I tried to rise above you, …
Together in this grave lie Benjamin Pantier, attorney at law, …
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked, …
Not in that wasted garden …
Suppose it is nothing but the hive: …
No other man, unless it was Doc Hill, …
When Reuben Pantier ran away and threw me …
Where is my boy, my boy— …
Have any of you, passers-by, …
I leaned against the mantel, sick, sick, …
So in Pieria, from the wedded bliss …
I was the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge. …
I have two monuments besides this granite obelisk: …
I went to the dances at Chandlerville, …
Knowlt Hoheimer ran away to the war …
You may think, passer-by, that Fate …
I would have been as great as George Eliot …
I am Minerva, the village poetess, …
I know that he told that I snared his soul …
Mr. Kessler, you know, was in the army, …
He protested all his life long …
I was only eight years old; …
Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick, …
They brought me ambrotypes …
Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree. …
When I died, the circulating library …
I, the scourge-wielder, balance-wrecker, …
Take note, passers-by, of the sharp erosions …
Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley, …
Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown …
Very well, you liberals, …
Rich, honored by my fellow citizens, …
I was the Widow McFarlane, …
They got me into the Sunday-school …