Henry C. Calhoun

I reached the highest place in Spoon River,         But through what bitterness of spirit!         The face of my father, sitting speechless,         Child-like, watching his canaries,         And looking at the court-house window         Of the county judge's room,         And his admonitions to me to seek         My own in life, and punish Spoon River         To avenge the wrong the people did him,         Filled me with furious energy         To seek for wealth and seek for power.         But what did he do but send me along         The path that leads to the grove of the Furies?         I followed the path and I tell you this:         On the way to the grove you'll pass the Fates,         Shadow-eyed, bent over their weaving.         Stop for a moment, and if you see         The thread of revenge leap out of the shuttle         Then quickly snatch from Atropos         The shears and cut it, lest your sons         And the children of them and their children         Wear the envenomed robe.