Silas Dement

 It was moon-light, and the earth sparkled
With new-fallen frost.

It was midnight and not a soul abroad.

Out of the chimney of the court-house
A gray-hound of smoke leapt and chased
The northwest wind.

I carried a ladder to the landing of the stairs
And leaned it against the frame of the trap-door
In the ceiling of the portico,
And I crawled under the roof and amid the rafters
And flung among the seasoned timbers
A lighted handful of oil-soaked waste.

Then I came down and slunk away.

In a little while the fire-bell rang --
Clang! Clang! Clang!
And the Spoon River ladder company
Came with a dozen buckets and began to pour water
On the glorious bon-fire, growing hotter,
Higher and brighter, till the walls fell in,
And the limestone columns where Lincoln stood
Crashed like trees when the woodman fells them.
.
.

When I came back from Joliet
There was a new court house with a dome.

For I was punished like all who destroy
The past for the sake of the future.

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