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?
A. D. Blood
Edgar Lee Masters
(1)
Poem topics: daughter, justice, people, son, work, good, pillow, grave, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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