Edgar Lee Masters
Over and over they used to ask me,
While buying the wine or the beer,
In Peoria first, and later in Chicago,
Denver, Frisco, New York, wherever I lived,
How I happened to lead the life,
And what was the start of it.
Well, I told them a silk dress,
And a promise of marriage from a rich man --
(It was Lucius Atherton).
But that was not really it at all.
Suppose a boy steals an apple
From the tray at the grocery store,
And they all begin to call him a thief,
The editor, minister, judge, and all the people --
"A thief," "a thief," "a thief," wherever he goes.
And he can't get work, and he can't get bread
Without stealing it, why, the boy will steal.
It's the way the people regard the theft of the apple
That makes the boy what he is.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Aner Clute by Edgar Lee Masters )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Tom The Badger, Phil Soar
- NotVery PC, Phil Soar
- Disguise, Aparna Chatterjee
- WHITE: The colour of pride, Mohammed Rakibul Hossain
- Elimination of Stress and Strife in My L.., K J Force
- Philip's Philippines, Richard Thripp
- less, lee fones
- Boven de Mens'lijkheid, Madrason writer
- Sleep To Dream, Arafat Driche
- The curse of poverty, Arafat Driche