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Poem by Edgar Lee Masters


Nellie Clark


I was only eight years old;
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it, except
That I was frightened and told my Mother;
And that my Father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy,
Fifteen years old, except for his Mother.
Nevertheless the story clung to me.
But the man who married me, a widower of thirty-five,
Was a newcomer and never heard it
Till two years after we were married.
Then he considered himself cheated,
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin.
Well, he deserted me, and I died
The following winter.



Edgar Lee Masters


Edgar Lee Masters's other poems:
  1. O Glorious France
  2. Robert Davidson
  3. Caroline Branson
  4. E.C. Culbertson
  5. Judson Stoddard


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