THEY got me into the Sunday-school In Spoon River And tried to get me to drop Confucius for Jesus. I could have been no worse off If I had tried to get them to drop Jesus for Confucius. For, without any warning, as if it were a prank, And sneaking up behind me, Harry Wiley, The minister's son, caved my ribs into my lungs, With a blow of his fist. Now I shall never sleep with my ancestors in Pekin, And no children shall worship at my grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE WATER by HAYDEN CARRUTH YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPRING WIND IN LONDON by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |