I loathed you, Spoon River.
I tried to rise above you,
I was ashamed of you.
I despised you
As the place of my nativity.
And there in Rome, among the artists,
Speaking Italian, speaking French,
I seemed to myself at times to be free
Of every trace of my origin.
I seemed to be reaching the heights of art
And to breathe the air that the masters breathed
And to see the world with their eyes.
But still they’d pass my work and say:
“What are you driving at, my friend?
Sometimes the face looks like Apollo’s
At others it has a trace of Lincoln’s.”
There was no culture, you know, in Spoon River
And I burned with shame and held my peace.
And what could I do, all covered over
And weighted down with western soil
Except aspire, and pray for another
Birth in the world, with all of Spoon River
Rooted out of my soul?

---
From Edgar Lee Masters, *Spoon River Anthology*

Spending some time with Masters, Sandburg, and early 20th c. midwestern writers in my Illinois History class today!

#EdgarLeeMasters #TodaysPoem #Poetry

George Gray di Edgar Lee Masters (Garnett, 1868 – Melrose Park, 1950)

Molte volte ho studiato
la lapide che mi hanno scolpito:
una barca con vele ammainate, in un porto.
In realtà non è questa la mia destinazione
ma la mia vita … https://cctm.website/antologia-di-spoon-river-george-gray/

da Antologia di Spoon River, Einaudi 1943

#edgarleemasters #spoonriver #libri #cctmwebsite #anoipiaceleggere #leggere