I inherited forty acres from my Father
And, by working my wife, my two sons and two daughters
From dawn to dusk, I acquired
A thousand acres. But not content,
Wishing to own two thousand acres,
I bustled through the years with axe and plow,
Toiling, denying myself, my wife, my sons, my daughters.
Squire Higbee wrongs me to say
That I died from smoking Red Eagle cigars.
Eating hot pie and gulping coffee
During the scorching hours of harvest time
Brought me here ere I had reached my sixtieth year.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Edgar Lee Masters's poem Cooney Potter

1 Comment

  1. Charles H. Wilson says:

    About 5 decades ago I had to read the Spoon River Anthology in high school. I got to the opposing poems, Cooney Potter and Fiddler Jones and they left a lasting impression.

    I never learned to play the fiddle but I and my wife moved to a small rural homestead over 35 years ago and we never looked back.

    And I have no regrets! Thank you Mr. Masters

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Do you have any comments, criticism, paraphrasis or analysis of this poem that you feel would assist other visitors in understanding the meaning or the theme of this poem by Edgar Lee Masters better? If accepted, your analysis will be added to this page of American Poems. Together we can build a wealth of information, but it will take some discipline and determination.