THEY laughed at me as "Prof. Moon," As a boy in Spoon River, born with the thirst Of knowing about the stars. They jeered when I spoke of the lunar mountains, And the thrilling heat and cold, And the ebon valleys by silver peaks, And Spica quadrillions of miles away, And the littleness of man. But now that my grave is honored, friends, Let it not be because I taught The lore of the stars in Knox College, But rather for this: that through the stars I preached the greatness of man, Who is none the less a part of the scheme of things For the distance of Spica or the Spiral Nebulae; Nor any the less a part of the question Of what the drama means. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALEXANDER THROCKMORTON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TRANSLUCENT FINGERS by MALCOLM COWLEY MARIA CALLAS, THE WOMAN BEHIND THE LEGEND* by MADELINE DEFREES SAPPHIC SUICIDE NOTE by JAMES GALVIN |