Knowlt Hoheimer
I was the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge.
When I felt the bullet enter my heart
I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail
For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary,
Instead of running away and joining the army,
Rather a thousand times the county jail
Than to lie under this marble figure with wings,
And this granite pedestal
Bearing the words 'Pro Patria.'
What do they mean, anyway?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
