| IT was moon-light, and the earth sparkled | |
| With new-fallen frost. | |
| It was midnight and not a soul was abroad. | |
| Out of the chimney of the court-house | |
| A grey-hound of smoke leapt and chased | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| 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! | 15 |
| 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 | 20 |
| 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. | 25 |
