Jefferson HowardMy valiant fight! For I call it valiant,With my father’s beliefs from old Virginia:Hating slavery, but no less war.I, full of spirit, audacity, courageThrown into life here in Spoon River,With its dominant forces drawn fromNew England, Republicans, Calvinists, merchants, bankers,Hating me, yet fearing my arm.With wife and children heavy to carry—Yet fruits of my very zest of life.Stealing odd pleasures that cost me prestige,And reaping evils I had not sown;Foe of the church with its charnel dankness,Friend of the human touch of the tavern;Tangled with fates all alien to me,Deserted by hands I called my own.Then just as I felt my giant strengthShort of breath, behold my childrenHad wound their lives in stranger gardens—And I stood alone, as I started aloneMy valiant life! I died on my feet,Facing the silence—facing the prospectThat no one would know of the fight I made.
My valiant fight! For I call it valiant,With my father’s beliefs from old Virginia:Hating slavery, but no less war.I, full of spirit, audacity, courageThrown into life here in Spoon River,With its dominant forces drawn fromNew England, Republicans, Calvinists, merchants, bankers,Hating me, yet fearing my arm.With wife and children heavy to carry—Yet fruits of my very zest of life.Stealing odd pleasures that cost me prestige,And reaping evils I had not sown;Foe of the church with its charnel dankness,Friend of the human touch of the tavern;Tangled with fates all alien to me,Deserted by hands I called my own.Then just as I felt my giant strengthShort of breath, behold my childrenHad wound their lives in stranger gardens—And I stood alone, as I started aloneMy valiant life! I died on my feet,Facing the silence—facing the prospectThat no one would know of the fight I made.