Linda's Literary Home

Author: Linda Sue Grimes

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Cassius Huffier”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters, Esq. https://librarycollections.law.umn.edu/darrow/trials_details.php?id=4 Clarence Darrow Law Library
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters, Esq. – Clarence Darrow Law Library

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Cassius Huffier”

    From Spoon River Anthology, Edgar Lee Masters’ American classic, the epitaph “Cassius Huffier” is written in the American-Innovative sonnet tradition:  reversing the Petrarchan octave and sestet, while revealing the depravity of the speaker.

    Introduction and Text of “Cassius Hueffer”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Cassius Hueffer” from the Spoon River Anthology offers up the acerbic belly-aching of a man who hated life so completely that even after his death, he continues his belly-aching about the epitaph written on his tombstone.

    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,
    And the elements so mixed in him
    That he made warfare on life,
    In the which he was slain.”
    While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues,
    Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph
    Graven by a fool!

    Commentary on “Cassius Hueffer”

    From Spoon River Anthology, Edgar Lee Masters’ American classic, the epitaph “Cassius Huffier” is written in the American-Innovative sonnet tradition:  reversing the Petrarchan octave and sestet, while revealing the depravity of the speaker.

    The Sestet:  “They have chiseled on my stone the words”

    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.

    The speaker, Cassius Hueffer, lays out the epitaph that is carved into his grave marker: “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.”

    In order to refute the truth of such a claim, Huffier reports that the statement will make the people who were well acquainted with him “smile” because those folks would know well that those kind words are merely, “empty rhetoric.

    The epitaph states that Hueffer had been a gentle, loving man in whom “the elements” stacked themselves up to render him a genuine “man.”  The epitaph leads people to believe that Cassius Hueffer was a warm man, who always had a kind greeting for those he encountered, and he behaved as a caring soul who was loved and admired by everyone he  met.

    Of course, Hueffer knows otherwise; therefore, he declares that those words are merely “empty rhetoric.”  Huffier is also aware that the people who chafed under his abusive character flaws would comprehend immediately the emptiness of that rhetoric.  

    The Octave:  “My epitaph should have been”

    My epitaph should have been:
    “Life was not gentle to him,
    And the elements so mixed in him
    That he made warfare on life,
    In the which he was slain.”
    While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues,
    Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph
    Graven by a fool!

    After striking down such a beautiful yet vacuous epitaph as it is written, Hueffer suggests his own version, the one that he knows ought to be chiseled on his  grave marker:  “Life was not gentle to him, / And the elements so mixed in him / That he made warfare on life, / In the which he was slain.” 

    Hueffer contests the idea that his life was “gentle,” but he does not actually dispute the accuracy of the claim that his own life was gentle, just the “idea” that life was gentle “to him.”  

    Hueffer contends that life did not deal gently with him.  He then employs the same form to assert, “the elements” were “mixed in him” in such a way as to urge him always to be at “warfare on life.”  Thus, he battled in life like a warrior, but finally, he “was slain.”

    The speaker does not elaborate about the manner in which he was “slain,” but he does contend that he was not able to abide “with slanderous tongues.”  He continues in his vagueness, however; thus, the reader remains without any information about either the nature of the slander, or how Hueffer left this earth.

    But his last dig at life and society and particularly the person who is responsible for the inaccurately carved epitaph is especially focused as it points an accusing finger:  “Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph / Graven by a fool!”

    Resentful in Life, Resentful in Death

    Although many readers of this poem may remain puzzled by the specifics of Hueffer’s life—why he carried on as such a misanthrope?  what was the nature of the slander he actually suffered?  how did he finally die?—such issues, in the long run, are not vital to the message of the poem, which is simply the grievance of a man who lived a resentful life and now undergoes a resentful  death.

  • Whispers of the Hollow Chorus

    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem
    Image created by Gemini inspired by the poem

    Whispers of the Hollow Chorus

    A clamor rises from the gilded tongues,
    Their words a brittle hymn of flattery,
    Unsettling the calm, the steady souls.

    Far off, a panther keens through dusk,
    Its hunger blind to cunning’s weave,
    A primal chase beneath the stars’ disdain.

    Reeds hum soft under fleeting steps,
    Each blade kissed gold by dawn’s embrace,
    Yet stained by restless human sighs.

    The air grows thick with craving’s pulse,
    A thirst for strife that chars the spirit,
    Draining life from quiet, beating cores.

    Petty minds sift through ash and sham,
    Clutching falsehoods like fragile gems,
    Blind to time’s slow, leveling hand.

    When revels fade to embers cold,
    The crowd turns sharp its brittle rage,
    Against the free who greet the morn unshackled.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Robert Fulton Tanner”

    005a Image/Edgar-Lee-Masters-Portrait.jpg
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Robert Fulton Tanner”

    Representing the fifth epitaph in Masters’  Spoon River Anthology is the character named Robert Fulton Tanner, who compares his life to a rat caught in a trap.

    Introduction and Text of “Robert Fulton Tanner”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Robert Fulton Tanner” is the fifth epitaph in the American classic Spoon River Anthology.   Fulton is a pathetic character, who discovers that building a better mouse trap might only get up a cockeyed metaphor to fling at this thing vaguely called “Life.”

    Robert Fulton Tanner 

    If a man could bite the giant hand
    That catches and destroys him,  
    As I was bitten by a rat
    While demonstrating my patent trap,
    In my hardware store that day.
    But a man can never avenge himself  
    On the monstrous ogre Life.
    You enter the room—that’s being born;
    And then you must live—work out your soul,
    Aha! the bait that you crave is in view:
    A woman with money you want to marry,
    Prestige, place, or power in the world.
    But there’s work to do and things to conquer—  
    Oh, yes! the wires that screen the bait.
    At last you get in—but you hear a step:
    The ogre, Life, comes into the room,  
    (He was waiting and heard the clang of the spring)
    To watch you nibble the wondrous cheese,  
    And stare with his burning eyes at you,
    And scowl and laugh, and mock and curse you,
    Running up and down in the trap,
    Until your misery bores him.

    Commentary on “Robert Fulton Tanner”

    The fifth epitaph in Masters’  Spoon River Anthology features the character named Robert Fulton Tanner, who compares his life to a rat caught in a trap.

    First Movement:  Holding a Grudge

    “Robert Fulton Tanner” holds a grudge, and he holds it against “Life.””  He thus blames “Life” for his misery, and he muses on the notion of being able the bite that hand of Life that has bitten him.  If he could have bitten that “giant hand,” then what?  He does not say.  It appears he did not think beyond that luscious ability.  Or perhaps he thinks such biting would be enough to avenge his plight.

    Reader/listeners are free to imagine the consequence of such biting, and the only safe conclusion is that Tanner would feel better if he could have accomplished such a biting.  Likening that “giant hand” to God, as well as Life, Tanner reveals that he is a hardware store owner, who had determined that he had built a better mouse trap.

    But while demonstrating that “patent trap,” a rat bit his hand. And that bitter event unleashed in Tanner’s mind all that would go wrong in his life henceforth.  From that day forth, he would see himself as a victim of the giant hand, which caught him and destroyed him.

    Second Movement:  Biting God’s Hand

    If only one could bite that giant hand—of God, of Life, or of whatever—living would be improved for the man.  Unfortunately, that is never going to happen, and Tanner knows it.

    Tanner then goes on a philosophically tinged discourse, likening being born to entering a room.  He observes that one must “live” and “work out [one’s soul].”  He pities himself for having to do such work, but then transforming himself into the rat seeking bait, he admits that sought to marry a woman who had money.

    And then he marries her for “prestige, place, or power in the world.” The reader’s likely sympathy at this point turns to disgust at the incivility of this speaker.  Who seeks a woman to marry to achieve wealth and power?  Only scoundrels unworthy of the very wealth and power they seek.

    Third Movement:  Life Requires Effort

    Having discovered that all of life requires some kind of effort, he highlights his having to perform and struggle just to get to the woman in order to woo her.  But to him, she is just a piece of rat bait.  He must exert much effort just to get to her.  But like the rat who spies a piece of cheese, he does what it takes to grasp that morsel.

    After achieving his goal of marrying the woman he sought, he finds not the wealth, the power, the prestige he thought he was pursuing, but that that “ogre, Life,” is entering the room again, watching him munch at the bait, while scowling and laughing at him.  

    What has he achieved?  Only more of that monster Life eating at him.  Of course, the reader realizes that the only ogre in this lazy, evil opportunist’s life is Robert Fulton Tanner himself.  He has destroyed his own life because he failed to understand honesty, sincerity, and genuine affection while striving for self-improvement.

    Fourth Movement:  Self-Professed Victims

    Self-professed victims are all the same:  someone else is to blame for their misery.  They have no role in making themselves miserable.  They cannot see that it is exactly what they have done that has resulted in all the misery of their lives.  

    The final image of Robert Fulton “[r]unning up and down in the trap” is most appropriate. But his ignorance of how he got there is the real ogre in his life.   It is not God or “Life” that will become “bored” with his misery; it is his own self who will experience that boredom until he discovers a way out of it.  

  • Paramahansa Yogananda’s “My Krishna Is Blue”

    Image: Bhagavan Krishna Self-Realization Fellowship https://bookstore.yogananda-srf.org/product/bhagavan-krishna-altar-photo-color/
    Image: Bhagavan Krishna – Self-Realization Fellowship

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s “My Krishna Is Blue”

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s “My Krishna Is Blue” reveals the chanter’s yearning for union with Krishna consciousness. He is envisioning a state beyond ordinary awareness, where the soul rises to the highest level of divine realization—self-realization.

    Introduction and Text of “My Krishna Is Blue”

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s “My Krishna Is Blue” is a devotional chant consisting of three movements. Through chant repetition and simplicity, the chanter dramatizes his profound love for Krishna and his longing to dwell perpetually in the Divine Presence.

    The chant progresses from recognition to aspiration and finally to spiritual identification. The chanter first notices a correspondence between Krishna and the blue tamal tree, then expresses a desire to ascend to its highest branch, and finally longs to die where Krishna sat.

    On the literal level, the chanter appears to be praising a tree associated with Krishna. On the mystical level, however, the imagery points beyond physical nature toward the soul’s desire to attain the exalted consciousness embodied by Krishna.

    My Krishna Is Blue

    My Krishna is blue;
    the tamal tree is blue.
    My Krishna is blue;
    The tamal tree is blue.
    So I do love thee, tamal tree!
    So I do love thee, my tamal tree!

    And when I die, O Mother!
    Do put me high
    On a branch of the tamal tree,
    On a branch of the tamal tree.

    Where Krishna sat, there I would die,
    Where Krishna sat, there I would die,
    On a branch of the tamal tree,
    On a branch of the tamal tree.

    Commentary on “My Krishna Is Blue”

    Paramahansa Yogananda’s “My Krishna Is Blue” reveals the soul’s devotion to the Divine Beloved. The chanter’s simple chant also expresses a profound spiritual aspiration toward God-union.

    First Movement:  “My Krishna is blue”

    My Krishna is blue;
    the tamal tree is blue.
    My Krishna is blue;
    The tamal tree is blue.
    So I do love thee, tamal tree!
    So I do love thee, my tamal tree!

    The chanter begins by establishing an identity between Krishna and the tamal tree. Both are described as blue, and that shared quality causes the chanter to regard the tree with affection and reverence.

    The repetition carries the force of devotional musing rather than ordinary description. The chanter seems to be dwelling lovingly upon a spiritual correspondence that links the visible object with the Divine Reality symbolized by Krishna.

    Because Krishna and the tamal tree share the same color, the tree becomes more than a botanical object. It functions as an emblem of Krishna consciousness and therefore deserves the chanter’s devotion.

    The declaration—“So I do love thee, tamal tree!”—reveals that the chanter’s love for the tree derives from its association with Krishna. The affection is not directed toward matter but toward the divine presence reflected through matter.

    The repeated address, “my tamal tree,” adds intimacy to the relationship. The chanter regards the tree as a sacred possession because it serves as a reminder of the beloved Lord.

    Paramahansa Yogananda frequently emphasizes perceiving God’s presence throughout creation. Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine consciousness may be perceived behind all forms, and the chanter’s vision reflects that spiritual perception.

    On my literary website Linda’s Literary Home, I have discussed how poets often employ physical imagery to suggest metaphysical realities. The chanter similarly employs the visible tamal tree as a symbol pointing toward an invisible spiritual state.

    The stanza therefore moves beyond literal description. Through the repeated equation of Krishna and the blue tamal tree, the chanter transforms a natural image into a symbol of divine consciousness.

    Second Movement: “And when I die, O Mother!”

    And when I die, O Mother!
    Do put me high
    On a branch of the tamal tree,
    On a branch of the tamal tree.

    The second stanza shifts from recognition to aspiration. Having established the sacred significance of the tamal tree, the chanter now expresses a fervent desire regarding his own destiny.

    The address to “Mother” adds emotional intensity, referring to the Divine Mother. The invocation conveys humility and dependence before a higher power. At first glance, the request appears unusual. The chanter asks to be placed “high” upon a branch of the tamal tree rather than buried or laid to rest in some conventional manner.

    The word “high” becomes the stanza’s crucial term. The chanter does not merely seek proximity to the tree; he desires elevation within it.  Such elevation suggests ascent rather than location.  The imagery points toward a higher level of consciousness rather than a merely physical position.

    The branch functions as a metaphorical rather than literal destination.  To imagine a devotee sincerely wishing to have his body suspended in a tree would diminish the spiritual seriousness of the chant. Instead, the high branch symbolizes the summit of awareness. The chanter longs to rise to the highest attainable state of realization.

    Paramahansa Yogananda repeatedly teaches that human consciousness may ascend from body-awareness to soul-awareness through spiritual discipline. The chanter’s longing for the highest branch harmonizes with that teaching of spiritual ascent.

    On my literary website Linda’s Literary Home, I have often observed that poetry rarely states its deepest meanings directly.  Through symbol and suggestion, poets allow intuition to perceive realities that ordinary language cannot adequately express.  Thus the high branch becomes an image of supreme spiritual attainment.  The chanter prays not for physical elevation but for the soul’s ascent into divine consciousness.

    Third Movement: “Where Krishna sat, there I would die”

    Where Krishna sat, there I would die,
    Where Krishna sat, there I would die,
    On a branch of the tamal tree,
    On a branch of the tamal tree.

    The final stanza reveals the chanter’s ultimate desire. He wishes to die precisely where Krishna sat.  The statement deepens the symbolic significance of the branch. It is not merely high; it is the place occupied by Krishna.  If Krishna represents perfected divine consciousness, then the branch symbolizes the level of realization attained by that consciousness. The chanter longs to occupy the same spiritual station.

    The repeated line intensifies the devotional yearning. The chanter does not seek worldly rewards, intellectual accomplishment, or heavenly pleasures.  Instead, he desires complete identification with Krishna. The aspiration is one of union rather than admiration from a distance.

    The word “die” also carries spiritual significance. Mystical literature frequently employs death as a symbol for the dissolution of ego-consciousness.The chanter therefore longs for the extinction of the limited self in the very state inhabited by Krishna. Such a death would not signify annihilation but fulfillment.

    Paramahansa Yogananda teaches that the soul’s highest goal is realization of its unity with Spirit. The chanter’s desire to die where Krishna sat reflects precisely such a yearning for God-union.  The repeated return to the tamal tree completes the chant’s symbolic design. What began as a blue tree associated with Krishna culminates as a metaphor for the highest spiritual center.

    The chant’s simplicity is permeated with remarkable depth. Through the image of a blue tamal tree and its highest branch, the chanter dramatizes the soul’s longing to rise into Krishna consciousness and experience the liberating realization of divine union.

  • Melancholy

    Original poem appearing in my collection titled “If My Words Could Rise,” available on Amazon as paperback or Kindle.
    Image created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Melancholy

    “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”        —Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan

    Shadows lengthen on empty streets;
    Whispers echo in silent rooms.
    Hearts yearn for what cannot be grasped—
    Who can fathom such dooms?

    Some chase phantoms in the night;
    Some sink into memories deep.
    Others dance with ghosts from the past,
    Still others only sit and weep.

    Stretching fingers reach for the stars
    While others clutch at the open air.
    Some drink from wells of grief,
    While others drown in a sea of despair.

    Yet desires burn eternal, even as hopes wane,
    As dreams haunt the hollows of the aching brain.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Ollie McGee”and “Fletcher McGee”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://www.best-poems.net/edgar_lee_masters/index.html#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Ollie McGee”and “Fletcher McGee”

    “Ollie McGee” and her husband “Fletcher McGee” report their complaints in the third and fourth poems from Masters’ Spoon River Anthology.  The couple elucidates the status of their marriage.

    Ollie McGee Speaks

    Mrs. McGee begins by posing a question and then launches her accusation.

    Ollie McGee 

    Have you seen walking through the village
    A man with downcast eyes and haggard face?
    That is my husband who, by secret cruelty
    Never to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;
    Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,
    And with broken pride and shameful humility,
    I sank into the grave.  
    But what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart?
    The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!
    These are driving him to the place where I lie.
    In death, therefore, I am avenged.

    Commentary on “Ollie McGee”

    Ollie McGee offers her take on her marriage with Fletcher McGee.

    First Movement:  Question and Accusation

    Have you seen walking through the village
    A man with downcast eyes and haggard face?  
    That is my husband who, by secret cruelty
    Never to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;  
    Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,
    And with broken pride and shameful humility,
    I sank into the grave.  

    Mrs. “Ollie McGee” begins with a query, wondering if her listeners have observed, “a man with downcast eyes and haggard face,” ambling throughout the village from time to time.  She then admits that that haggard face belongs to the man who was her husband.  

    The speaker then begins to hurl accusations at the man.  The wife reveals that he is guilty of horrifying cruelty: the man took away his wife’s youth as well as her beauty.   This theft continued over the lifetime of their miserable marriage.   Mrs. McGee then died, “wrinkled and with yellow teeth.”  He stole her pride and made her suffer “shameful humility.”

    Second Movement:   Vengeance

    But what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart?
    The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!
    These are driving him to the place where I lie.
    In death, therefore, I am avenged.

    Ollie then offers a further inquiry, as she questions whether her listeners know what “gnaws at my husband’s heart.” She contends that two images likely unsettle her husband’s heart and mind: “the face of what I was”and “the face of what he made me.”    Mrs. McGee asserts that these images are taking his life, “driving him to the place where I lie.”  Thus she has convinced herself that she is getting her revenge in death.

    Fletcher McGee Speaks

    Fletcher McGee offers his own complaint but reveals himself to be a criminal in his own behavior.

    Fletcher McGee 

    She took my strength by minutes,
    She took my life by hours,  
    She drained me like a fevered moon
    That saps the spinning world.
    The days went by like shadows,
    The minutes wheeled like stars.
    She took the pity from my heart,
    And made it into smiles.
    She was a hunk of sculptor’s clay,
    My secret thoughts were fingers:
    They flew behind her pensive brow
    And lined it deep with pain.
    They set the lips, and sagged the cheeks,
    And drooped the eyes with sorrow.
    My soul had entered in the clay,
    Fighting like seven devils.
    It was not mine, it was not hers;
    She held it, but its struggles
    Modeled a face she hated,
    And a face I feared to see.
    I beat the windows, shook the bolts.
    I hid me in a corner—
    And then she died and haunted me,
    And hunted me for life.

    Commentary on “Fletcher McGee”

    Two miserable people made each other miserable, but who was the actual culprit in this dungheap of a marriage?

    First Movement:  Accusations Returned

    She took my strength by minutes,
    She took my life by hours,  
    She drained me like a fevered moon  
    That saps the spinning world.  
    The days went by like shadows,
    The minutes wheeled like stars.

    Mr. “Fletcher McGee” also begins his epitaph with appalling accusations against his wife.  Just as he had done, she had foisted on him unspeakable cruelty:  “she took my strength,””she took my life,” “she drained me.”

    This speaker also includes time measurements to each complaint, in order to increase and compound the pain he claims he suffered at the hands of this woman.   Mr. McGee then asserts, “the days went by like shadows, / the minutes wheeled like stars.”  His days were dark but time seemed to drag on in an other worldly fashion.  He seemed unable to concentrate on anything worthwhile.

    Second Movement:   Vengeance Returned

    She was a hunk of sculptor’s clay,
    My secret thoughts were fingers:
    They flew behind her pensive brow
    And lined it deep with pain.
    They set the lips, and sagged the cheeks,  
    And drooped the eyes with sorrow.
    My soul had entered in the clay,
    Fighting like seven devils.  
    It was not mine, it was not hers;
    She held it, but its struggles
    Modeled a face she hated,
    And a face I feared to see.
    I beat the windows, shook the bolts.  
    I hid me in a corner—
    And then she died and haunted me,
    And hunted me for life.

    After fiercely complaining that Mrs. McGee ruined his life, Mr. McGee freely and somewhat gleefully confesses that he, in fact quite deliberately, ruined hers.   Instead of pitying his wife for her unhappiness and shrewish behavior, he came to possess the ability to smile about her suffering.   His “smiles”grew out of the fact that he had power over her. 

    He came to see her only as “a hunk of sculptor’s clay.”  Thus Mr. McGee went about working to sculpt ugly features onto his wife’s face.  This despicable husband asserts that, “my secret thoughts were fingers.”  He continues with the sculptor metaphor, as he affirms what Ollie has earlier said about the man.   

    The miserable husband freely confesses and describes his fingers as sculptors, motivated by his “secret thoughts”which “lined” “her pensive brow” “deep with pain.”  Mr. McGee again freely admits that he, in fact, “set the lips, and sagged the cheeks, / And drooped the eyes with sorrow.” 

    He then bizarrely asserts that his “soul had entered in the clay.” Thus his soul became the force of evil, “fighting like seven devils.” He appears to have become so hooked on making her miserable that he just could not stop himself.  His evil served him like a dangerous drug.

    Mr. McGee then admits that he actually killed her:  “I beat the windows, shook the bolts.”  He vaguely claims that he hid “in a corner,” and “she died and haunted me / And hunted me for life.”

    He took advantage of his weak, depressed, sorrowful wife. He fully realized what he was doing. Therefore, it becomes clear that Ollie was correct about her lout of a husband, who was in fact a criminal.  

    At least, Mrs. McGee can feel somewhat avenged in death.   But a pathetic irony is laced within these pitiful confessions.  Readers are left to doubt that any vengeance or feeling “haunted”can, in fact, offer these tortured souls any meaningful rest.

  • His Tongue’s Dulcet Tones

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    His Tongue’s Dulcet Tones

    (Though his path stray far from truth)

    His words did roam through lanes of rustic gold,
    By fields where amber wheat doth kiss the sky,
    Along the river’s bend, both swift and bold,
    O’er arches wrought of stone they softly fly.

    Through wooded snares and breezes light they sweep,
    Above the crawfish in their misty play,
    Each sound ablaze, as if the night to keep,
    A flame of moonshine gilds the fleeting day.

    His phrases dance round lilies of the morn,
    And spark a gleam within mine eyes to shine,
    Like candlewood where autumn shades are born—
    Yet sad to say his wayward soul doth not align.

    Beneath the boughs, my heart did strain to hear,
    His tongue’s dulcet tones, to me now no longer dear.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “Hod Putt”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://www.best-poems.net/edgar_lee_masters/index.html#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “Hod Putt”

    Hod Putt chafed at his low station in life as an unsuccessful laborer who never seemed able to get ahead. His intense envy of those who were successful lead him down a path to perdition.

    Introduction and Text of “Hod Putt”

    The deceased inhabitants of the fictional village of Spoon River in Edgar Lee Masters’ American classic, Spoon River Anthology, are finally free to let loose their venom on whoever crossed them in life.  They now feel free to testify, but their testimony is only their side of it.  They can say whatever they like without being rebuked, reprimanded, or criticized.

    The advantage of this kind of scenario, masterfully crafted by the poet, is that the dead people have the same stage to make their claims.  The study thus reveals differing points of view, even as the individual speakers sometimes focus on similar circumstances.

    The Spoon River character study begins with an epitaph featuring the character “Hod Putt,” which qualifies as a versanelle, a short, pithy verse with a gripping punch offering a glimpse at human nature. The poem delivers that interesting punch as it reveals a truth about human nature and its desire to justify the unjustifiable to flatter the ego.

    Hod Putt 

    Here I lie close to the grave
    Of Old Bill Piersol,  
    Who grew rich trading with the Indians, and who
    Afterwards took the bankrupt law  
    And emerged from it richer than ever.
    Myself grown tired of toil and poverty
    And beholding how Old Bill and others grew in wealth,
    Robbed a traveler one night near Proctor’s Grove,
    Killing him unwittingly while doing so,
    For the which I was tried and hanged.
    That was my way of going into bankruptcy.
    Now we who took the bankrupt law in our respective ways  
    Sleep peacefully side by side.

    Commentary on “Hod Putt”

    Apparently, considering himself a failure in life’s rat race for riches, this speaker Hod Putt envied those who were successful or at least more successful than he was.

    From his perch in the afterworld, Putt attempts to improve his lack of substance by concocting an equivalence between his moral bankruptcy and the financial bankruptcy experienced by “Old Bill Piersol.”

    Putt belongs to that classification of Spoon River inmates who try to assuage their own guilt by laying a thick blanket of culpability onto others.  Readers can see clearly that these scofflaws are merely cutting off the heads of others so that they may appear to stand taller.

    First Movement:   Blinding Jealousy

    Here I lie close to the grave
    Of Old Bill Piersol,
    Who grew rich trading with the Indians, and who
    Afterwards took the bankrupt law
    And emerged from it richer than ever. 

    Hod Putt informs his audience that his grave lies near the “grave / Of Old Bill Piersol.” He reports that Piersol was an Indian trader who became wealthy through his lucrative trade association.

    Piersol, however, went bankrupt but then recovered his wealth quickly and grew “richer than ever”; these events cause Putt’s jealous nature to overcome his ability to think clearly.

    Second Movement:  A Double Felony

    Myself grown tired of toil and poverty
    And beholding how Old Bill and others grew in wealth,
    Robbed a traveler one night near Proctor’s Grove, 

    Putt implies that he was somewhat lackadaisical with no deep interest in high achievement; just keeping bread on the table caused him to grow “tired of toil and poverty.” While not fond of work, he also found poverty inconvenient.

    Putt assumed that “Old Bill and others” had used the system to become wealthy; thus he assumed he could also use the system for his own purposes.  He, therefore, dreamed up a plan: instead of working for his pay, he would take from others. He began his new endeavor in crime by robbing a traveler “near Proctor’s Grove.”

    Third Movement: Faulty Logic

    Killing him unwittingly while doing so,
    For the which I was tried and hanged.
    That was my way of going into bankruptcy.

    To Putt’s chagrin, he kills the victim while trying to take his property. This felony then gets Putt “tried and hanged.” Like any other act of faulty logic, he asserts that his act just constituted “bankruptcy.”

    He, no doubt, believes he is clever in comparing his crimes to what he assumes to be the crimes of others, as he draw a moral equivalency between financial bankruptcy and moral bankruptcy.  But his utterly counterfeit comparison to businessmen who declare legitimate bankruptcy according to the law demonstrates the criminal nature of Putt’s mind.

    Fourth Movement: Morally Bankrupt

    Now we who took the bankrupt law in our respective ways
    Sleep peacefully side by side.

    Putt shows that he is morally bankrupt; he concocts a moral equivalency between his felonious crimes and those of successful men, in this case, Old Bill Piersol, who merely followed bankruptcy laws.

    The smug Putt claims that he and Piersol “sleep peacefully side by side”; this claim implies that their “bankruptcies” are just the same.

    A Two-Fold Felon

    Readers will understand the difference between the two “bankruptcies”: Hod Putt is a criminal trying to vindicate himself while, in fact, revealing his felonious nature. Bankruptcy laws work within the legal system for those who declare bankruptcy.

    The laws governing bankruptcy do not exist in order to encourage theft but to allow the unfortunate to place their financial endeavor on the path to recovery. Putt declares that he intended to rob a man, but while committing the robbery, he killed the man.

    It is not likely that he intended to kill the man as he was committing his intensional felony.  But then, because of the accidental killing, Putt becomes a two-fold felon, failing to even understand his criminal acts. 

    Now after death, he disingenuously claims to be “sleeping peacefully side by side” with Old Bill Piersol. In his own imagination, Putt is free to believe that his “sleep” after death and that of a legitimate businessman are the same. 

    But imagination does not make it so.  The karma of all individuals dictates how well they rest—not how things may seem at any given time. Apparently, Putt remains blissfully unaware that karma will reckon with him—if not today, nor tomorrow, then sometime in future.

  • Crying the Silver Rain

    Crying the Silver Rain

    “Water, is taught by thirst”   –Emily Dickinson

    Life is cold beneath this gray-soaked sky.
    Hold still, my heart! The flood runs deep,
    Waits for the clouds—
    The clouds wait for the rain.

    Shed the burdens of your weary soul—
    A fresh hope calls to your grief
    To cross the torrent of your pain
    Crying the silver rain.

    Steal away under nightfall through wet secrets.
    Darkness will not consume you
    Unless you sob past morning
    And glom onto tales of endless woe.

    Let the sorrow bloom like lilacs in spring—
    The storm beats upon the glass.
    The glass reflects the rushing drops
    Before the cold, silver rain.

    You are a shell of echoes lost.
    You crave renewal in touching hands;
    Yet your tears spill their song
    As they cry the silver rain.

    They will hear in every drenched line
    Whatever note you choose to play.
    Perhaps the pulse of grief will beat
    The wind and the rain will sway

    Or you will drift on water’s vision
    That blurs the brink of your mind
    That stains the silence
    As it mourns the heft of heartache.

  • Edgar Lee Masters’ “The Hill”

    Image: Edgar Lee Masters https://factfile.org/10-facts-about-edgar-lee-masters#google_vignette
    Image: Edgar Lee Masters

    Edgar Lee Masters’ “The Hill”

    The poem “The Hill” opens Edgar Lee Masters’ American classic Spoon River Anthology, which is told in a series of dramatic epitaphs by the deceased residents of Spoon River, an imaginary town in Illinois. The work might be considered a character study in poetry.

    Introduction and Text of “The Hill”

    Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology has become an American classic in poetry.  The sequence consists of 246 poems, each of which the poet called an “epitaph.”  The following three pieces differ from the predominant form of the relatively short epitaph: 

    #1 “The Hill” locates the cemetery and offers a brief overview of the nature of the characters who will be speaking 

    #245 “The Spooniad,” whose title is a play on Jonathan Swift’s The Dunciad, offers a unifying piece to the disparate nature of the many idiosyncratic voices of the Spoon River cemetery deceased 

    #246 “Epilogue” concludes with several voices waxing philosophical about various and sundry profound topics.

    The bulk of the poems, the remaining 243, feature dramatic epitaphs spoken by the deceased, former residents of the fictional Illinois town Spoon River.   The speakers now all reside in the hill cemetery from which they report their various current states of mind, based primarily on the lives they lived while they were citizens of the fictional town.

    The first offering “The Hill” opens the American classic and features seven free verse paragraphs (versagraphs).  It offers an introduction to some the characters who will be speaking later for themselves.

    The Hill 

    Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
    The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.  

    One passed in a fever,
    One was burned in a mine,
    One was killed in a brawl,  
    One died in a jail,
    One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife—  
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    Where are Ella, Kate, Mag, Lizzie and Edith,
    The tender heart, the simple soul, the loud, the proud, the happy one?—
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.  

    One died in shameful child-birth,
    One of a thwarted love,
    One at the hands of a brute in a brothel,
    One of a broken pride, in the search for heart’s desire,
    One after life in far-away London and Paris
    Was brought to her little space by Ella and Kate and Mag—
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    Where are Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emily,
    And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,
    And Major Walker who had talked  
    With venerable men of the revolution?—
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.  

    They brought them dead sons from the war,
    And daughters whom life had crushed,
    And their children fatherless, crying—
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    Where is Old Fiddler Jones
    Who played with life all his ninety years,
    Braving the sleet with bared breast,  
    Drinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin,
    Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven?  
    Lo! he babbles of the fish-frys of long ago,  
    Of the horse-races of long ago at Clary’s Grove,
    Of what Abe Lincoln said  
    One time at Springfield.

    tom o’bedlam https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgDIXF-KR1U&t=33s

    Commentary on “The Hill”

    “The Hill” opens Edgar Lee Masters’ Spoon River Anthology, an American classic.   Spoon River Anthology remains a useful character study, told in a sequence of dramatic epitaphs by the deceased residents of Spoon River, an imaginary town in Illinois.

    First Versagraph:  A Rhetorical Inquiry

    Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley,
    The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

    In Edgar Lee Masters’ “The Hill,” the speaker begins by inquiring into the whereabouts of five individuals: “Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom and Charley.”  The speaker then adds a brief description of each man:  one was weak-willed, one had strong arms, one was a clown, one was a drunkard, and one was a brawler. The speaker then answers his original question by reporting that they are all dead, and they are all located on the hill in the Spoon River Cemetery.

    Second Versagraph:   Character Descriptions

    One passed in a fever,
    One was burned in a mine,
    One was killed in a brawl,  
    One died in a jail,
    One fell from a bridge toiling for children and wife—  
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    The speaker continues his description of the men he had earlier named.   He reports how each one died: one died of a fever, one burned to death, one was killed in a fight, one died in jail, which says where but not actually how, and finally, on died after falling from a bridge.  

    Even though they all died under very different circumstances, some obviously more honorably than others, they all are dead, that is, euphemistically “sleeping on the hill.”  The speaker repeats the euphemism “sleeping” to drive home the fact that he is employing the term as a metaphor for “dead.”

    Third Versagraph:    What Happened to the Ladies?

    Where are Ella, Kate, Mag, Lizzie and Edith,
    The tender heart, the simple soul, the loud, the proud, the happy one?—
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

    The speaker turns next to five women.  Again, the speaker is seeking to find out the whereabouts of these ladies.  He want to know the location of “Ella, Kate, Mag, Lizzie and Edith.” 

    Also, as with the men, the speaker offers a brief descriptor of each lady: one was tender-hearted, one was a simple soul, one was loud, one was proud, and one was simply happy.

    Fourth Versagraph:   More Biographical Tidbits

    One died in shameful child-birth,
    One of a thwarted love,
    One at the hands of a brute in a brothel,
    One of a broken pride, in the search for heart’s desire,
    One after life in far-away London and Paris
    Was brought to her little space by Ella and Kate and Mag—
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    Also, again, as with the men, the speaker offers a bit more biographical information about each woman, about how each died.  One died giving birth.   One succumbed after being jilted.   Another was killed in a house of prostitution.  One died because of loss of pride and will to live, and one passed while living far away.  

    Apparently, Ella, Kate, and Mag brought home the body of the one who died far away.  And yet again, the women just as the men, are all euphemistically “sleeping on the hill.”

    Fifth Versagraph:   They Are All Dead in the Cemetery

    Where are Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emily,
    And old Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton,
    And Major Walker who had talked  
    With venerable men of the revolution?—
    All, all, are sleeping on the hill.  

    The speaker continues to ask where certain folks are:  Uncle Isaac and Aunt Emily, Towny Kincaid and Sevigne Houghton.    The speaker then wants to know where is the old military man, Major Walker.  The major had spoken with the honorable men “of the revolution.” But yet again, all of these folks are “sleeping on the hill.”

    Sixth Versagraph:   The War Dead

    They brought them dead sons from the war,
    And daughters whom life had crushed,
    And their children fatherless, crying—
    All, all are sleeping, sleeping, sleeping on the hill.

    The speaker then reports that other dead that occupy space in the cemetery on the hill are the war dead.  “They” had to bring the fallen sons home from “the war.”

    The imprecise “they” likely refers to authorities, perhaps military officers responsible for transporting the fallen soldiers back to their home for burial.  But also this indefinite “they” had to bring home “daughters whom life had crushed.”   And children were left “fatherless, crying.”  Again, the speaker reports that they are all “sleeping on the hill.”

    Seventh Versagraph:  A Memorable Character

    Where is Old Fiddler Jones
    Who played with life all his ninety years,
    Braving the sleet with bared breast,  
    Drinking, rioting, thinking neither of wife nor kin,
    Nor gold, nor love, nor heaven?  
    Lo! he babbles of the fish-frys of long ago,  
    Of the horse-races of long ago at Clary’s Grove,
    Of what Abe Lincoln said  
    One time at Springfield.

    The speaker concludes his overview of the cemetery’s residents by asking about one final deceased man, a colorful character called, “Old Fiddler Jones.”  This old fellow lived to be ninety years old.  The speaker claims Fiddler Jones played with life, likely alluding to his playing the fiddle for many of the picnics and other Spoon River gatherings.  

    The speaker seems to recall that Old Fiddler Jones’ liked to repeat stories about “fish-frys” and “horse-races,” and he also liked to report on “what Abe Lincoln said” the time that Lincoln visited Springfield, the capital of Illinois. The poet is engaging the strategic use of literary devices to render his character study more than a mere prose exposition.

    The mundane fact that all of these folks are dead and buried in the cemetery on the hill is rendered poetic and dramatic through the use of the literary devices of metaphor, the rhetorical question, and euphemism.