Take note, passers-by, of the sharp erosions <br />Eaten in my head-stone by the wind and rain -- <br />Almost as if an intangible Nemesis or hatred <br />Were marking scores against me, <br />But to destroy, and not preserve, my memory. <br />I in life was the Circuit judge, a maker of notches, <br />Deciding cases on the points the lawyers scored, <br />Not on the right of the matter. <br />O wind and rain, leave my head-stone alone! <br />For worse than the anger of the wronged, <br />The curses of the poor, <br />Was to lie speechless, yet with vision clear, <br />Seeing that even Hod Putt, the murderer, <br />Hanged by my sentence, <br />Was innocent in soul compared with me.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-circuit-judge/
