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

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