Poem by Edgar Lee Masters

A.D. Blood

If you in the village think that my work was a good one,
Who closed the saloons and stopped all playing at cards,
And haled old Daisy Fraser before Justice Arnett,
In many a crusade to purge the people of sin;
Why do you let the milliner’s daughter Dora,
And the worthless son of Benjamin Pantier,
Nightly make my grave their unholy pillow?

1. Jonas Keene
2. Carl Hamblin
3. Lambert Hutchins
4. Perry Zoll
5. Elsa Wertman

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