Explore "Willie Pennington" by Edgar Lee Masters on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
They called me the weakling, the simpleton, / For my brothers were strong and beautiful, / While I, the last child of parents who had aged, / Inherited only their residue of power.
But they, my brothers, were eaten up / In the fury of the flesh, which I had not, / Made pulp in the activity of the senses, which I had not, / Hardened by the growth of the lusts, which I had not, / Though making names and riches for themselves.
Then I, the weak one, the simpleton, / Resting in a little corner of life, / Saw a vision, and through me many saw the vision, / Not knowing it was through me.
Thus a tree sprang / From me, a mustard seed.