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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=373823" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Indignation Jones</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=373823" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">You would not believe, would you<br>That I came from good Welsh stock?<br>That I was purer blooded than the white trash here?<br>And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders<br>And Virginians of Spoon River?<br>You would not believe that I had been to school<br>And read some books.<br>You saw me only as a run-down man,<br>With matted hair and beard<br>And ragged clothes.<br>Sometimes a man's life turns into a cancer<br>From being bruised and continually bruised,<br>And swells into a purplish mass,<br>Like growths on stalks of corn.<br>Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of life<br>Into which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,<br>With a slattern for a wife, and poor Minerva, my daughter,<br>Whom you tormented and drove to death.<br>So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days<br>Of my life.<br>No more you hear my footsteps in the morning,<br>Resounding on the hollow sidewalk,<br>Going to the grocery store for a little corn meal<br>And a nickel's worth of bacon.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edgar+Lee+Masters">Edgar Lee Masters</a></strong></div>