I was Willie Metcalf. <br />They used to call me "Doctor Meyers" <br />Because, they said, I looked like him. <br />And he was my father, according to Jack McGuire. <br />I lived in the livery stable, <br />Sleeping on the floor <br />Side by side with Roger Baughman's bulldog, <br />Or sometimes in a stall. <br />I could crawl between the legs of the wildest horses <br />Without getting kicked -- we knew each other. <br />On spring days I tramped through the country <br />To get the feeling, which I sometimes lost, <br />That I was not a separate thing from the earth. <br />I used to lose myself, as if in sleep, <br />By lying with eyes half-open in the woods. <br />Sometimes I taIked with animals -- even toads and snakes -- <br />Anything that had an eye to look into. <br />Once I saw a stone in the sunshine <br />Trying to turn into jelly. <br />In April days in this cemetery <br />The dead people gathered all about me, <br />And grew still, like a congregation in silent prayer. <br />I never knew whether I was a part of the earth <br />With flowers growing in me, or whether I walked -- <br />Now I know.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/willie-metcalf/
