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Ballad Of Jesus Of Nazareth

It matters not what place he drew

At first life's mortal breath,

Some say it was in Bethlehem,

And some in Nazareth.

But shame and sorrow were his lot

And shameful was his death.

The angels sang, and o'er the barn

Edgar Lee Masters

AD 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?

Edgar Lee Masters

Lilian Stewart

I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,

Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,

Reared in the mansion there on the hill,

With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.

How proud my mother was of the mansion!

How proud of father's rise in the world!

And how my father loved and watched us,

And guarded our happiness.

Edgar Lee Masters

Jeremy Carlisle

Passer-by, sin beyond any sin

Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.

And joy beyond any joy is the joy

Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good

At the miraculous moment!

Here I confess to a lofty scorn,

And an acrid skepticism.

But do you remember the liquid that Penniwit

Edgar Lee Masters

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

Edgar Lee Masters

Anne Rutledge

Out of me unworthy and unknown

The vibrations of deathless music;

'With malice toward none, with charity for all.'

Out of me the forgiveness of millions toward millions,

And the beneficient face of a nation

Shining with justice and truth.

I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds,

Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln,

Edgar Lee Masters

Ami Green

Not "a youth with hoary head and haggard eye,"

But an old man with a smooth skin

And black hair!

I had the face of a boy as long as I lived,

And for years a soul that was stiff and bent,

In a world which saw me just as a jest,

To be hailed familiarly when it chose,

And loaded up as a man when it chose,

Edgar Lee Masters

Cassius Hueffer

They have Chiseled on my stone the words:

'His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him

That nature might stand up and say to all the world,

This was a man.'

Those who knew me smile

As they read this empty rhetoric.

My epitaph should have been:

'Life was not gentle to him,

Edgar Lee Masters

Petit, the Poet

Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick,

Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel—

Faint iambics that the full breeze wakens—

But the pine tree makes a symphony thereof.

Triolets, villanelles, rondels, rondeaus,

Ballades by the score with the same old thought:

The snows and the roses of yesterday are vanished;

And what is love but a rose that fades?

Edgar Lee Masters

Rev Abner Peet

I had no objection at all

To selling my household effects at auction

On the village square.

It gave my beloved flock the chance

To get something which had belonged to me

For a memorial.

But that trunk which was struck off

To Burchard, the grog-keeper!

Edgar Lee Masters

Barney Hainsfeather

If the excursion train to Peoria

Had just been wrecked, I might have escaped with my life —

Certainly I should have escaped this place.

But as it was burned as well, they mistook me

For John Allen who was sent to the Hebrew Cemetery

At Chicago,

And John for me, so I lie here.

It was bad enough to run a clothing store in this town,

Edgar Lee Masters

Amanda Barker

Henry got me with child,

Knowing that I could not bring forth life

Without losing my own.

In my youth therefore I entered the portals of dust.

Traveler, it is believed in the village where I lived

That Henry loved me with a husband's love,

But I proclaim from the dust

That he slew me to gratify his hatred.

Edgar Lee Masters