They first charged me with disorderly conduct, There being no statute on blasphemy. Later they locked me up as insane Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard. My offense was this: I said God lied to Adam, and destined him To lead the life of a fool, Ignorant that there is evil in the world as well as good. And when Adam outwitted God by eating the apple And saw through the lie, God drove him out of Eden to keep him from taking The fruit of immortal life. For Christ’s sake, you sensible people, Here’s what God Himself says about it in the book of Genesis: “And the Lord God said, behold the man Is become as one of us” (a little envy, you see), “To know good and evil” (The all-is-good lie exposed): “And now lest he put forth his hand and take Also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever: Therefore the Lord God sent Him forth from the garden of Eden.” (The reason I believe God crucified His Own Son To get out of the wretched tangle is, because it sounds just like Him. ) Francis Turner I could not run or play In boyhood. In manhood I could only sip the cup, Not drink—For scarlet-fever left my heart diseased. Yet I lie here Soothed by a secret none but Mary knows: There is a garden of acacia, Catalpa trees, and arbors sweet with vines— There on that afternoon in June By Mary’s side— Kissing her with my soul upon my lips It suddenly took flight. Franklin Jones If I could have lived another year I could have finished my flying machine, And become rich and famous. Hence it is fitting the workman Who tried to chisel a dove for me Made it look more like a chicken. For what is it all but being hatched, And running about the yard, To the day of the block? Save that a man has an angel’s brain, And sees the ax from the first! John M. Church I was attorney for the “Q” And the Indemnity Company which insured The owners of the mine. I pulled the wires with judge and jury, And the upper courts, to beat the claims Of the crippled, the widow and orphan, And made a fortune thereat. The bar association sang my praises In a high-flown resolution. And the floral tributes were many— But the rats devoured my heart And a snake made a nest in my skull Russian Sonia I, born in Weimar Of a mother who was French And German father, a most learned professor, Orphaned at fourteen years, Became a dancer, known as Russian Sonia, All up and down the boulevards of Paris, Mistress betimes of sundry dukes and counts, And later of poor artists and of poets. At forty years, _passée_, I sought New York And met old Patrick Hummer on the boat, Red-faced and hale, though turned his sixtieth year, Returning after having sold a ship-load Of cattle in the German city, Hamburg. He brought me to Spoon River and we lived here For twenty years—they thought that we were married This oak tree near me is the favorite haunt Of blue jays chattering, chattering all the day. And why not? for my very dust is laughing For thinking of the humorous thing called life.