My father who owned the wagon-shop <br />And grew rich shoeing horses <br />Sent me to the University of Montreal. <br />I learned nothing and returned home, <br />Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler, <br />Hunting quail and snipe. <br />At Thompson's Lake the trigger of my gun <br />Caught in the side of the boat <br />And a great hole was shot through my heart. <br />Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft, <br />On which stands the figure of a woman <br />Carved by an Italian artist. <br />They say the ashes of my namesake <br />Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius Cestius <br />Somewhere near Rome.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/percy-bysshe-shelley/
