(no subject)
Nov. 27th, 2010 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
proximoceptionThis is a cemetery poem but I haven't really known what to make of it, knowing little of Masters:
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Edgar Lee Masters
My father who owned the wagon-shop
And grew rich shoeing horses
Sent me to the University of Montreal.
I learned nothing and returned home,
Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,
Hunting quail and snipe.
At Thompson’s Lake the trigger of my gun
Caught in the side of the boat
And a great hole was shot through my heart.
Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,
On which stands the figure of a woman
Carved by an Italian artist.
They say the ashes of my namesake
Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius Cestius
Somewhere near Rome.
The idea's that it's touching a horseshoe guy would love Shelley? And/or the notion that we're all Shelley to some extent? What's common to people seems to be a theme of Spoon River.
Anyway, surely a tribute, among whatever other things it is.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Edgar Lee Masters
My father who owned the wagon-shop
And grew rich shoeing horses
Sent me to the University of Montreal.
I learned nothing and returned home,
Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,
Hunting quail and snipe.
At Thompson’s Lake the trigger of my gun
Caught in the side of the boat
And a great hole was shot through my heart.
Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,
On which stands the figure of a woman
Carved by an Italian artist.
They say the ashes of my namesake
Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius Cestius
Somewhere near Rome.
The idea's that it's touching a horseshoe guy would love Shelley? And/or the notion that we're all Shelley to some extent? What's common to people seems to be a theme of Spoon River.
Anyway, surely a tribute, among whatever other things it is.
