Edgar Lee Masters

(23 August 1868 – 5 March 1950 / Kansas / United States)

Rosie Roberts - Poem by Edgar Lee Masters

I was sick, but more than that, I was mad
At the crooked police, and the crooked game of life.
So I wrote to the Chief of Police at Peoria:
"I am here in my girlhood home in Spoon River,
Gradually wasting away.
But come and take me, I killed the son
Of the merchant prince, in Madam Lou's,
And the papers that said he killed himself
In his home while cleaning a hunting gun --
Lied like the devil to hush up scandal,
For the bribe of advertising.
In my room I shot him, at Madam Lou's,
Because he knocked me down when I said
That, in spite of all the money he had,
I'd see my lover that night."


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Read poems about / on: hunting, money, sick, home, river, son, night, life



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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