Poetry, Volume 14

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Harriet Monroe
Modern Poetry Association, 1919 - American poetry
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Page 290 - THE LONG HILL I must have passed the crest a while ago And now I am going down — Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know, But the brambles were always catching the hem of my gown. All the morning I thought how proud I should be To stand there straight as a queen, Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me — But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen. It was nearly level along the beaten track And the brambles caught in my gown — But...
Page 149 - Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom— A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift, blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie. Mother whose heart hung...
Page 66 - ... We were very tired, we were very merry — We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry.
Page 106 - Underneath all, individuals, I swear nothing is good to me now that ignores individuals, The American compact is altogether with individuals, The only government is that which makes minute of individuals, The whole theory of the universe is directed unerringly to one single individual — namely to You.
Page 292 - Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten for ever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall In a long forgotten snow.
Page 308 - Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image, nor the likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down to them, nor worship them...
Page 50 - Citharaon shook up the rocks by Thebes and danced them into a bulwark at his pleasure, And you, O Polyphemus? Did harsh Galatea almost Turn to your dripping horses, because of a tune, under Aetna? We must look into the matter. Bacchus and Apollo in favour of it, There will be a crowd of young women doing homage to my palaver...
Page 91 - Helping the lama or brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols, Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, rapt and austere...
Page 220 - O guns, that we have heard their call, That we have sworn, and will not turn aside, That we will onward till we win or fall, That we will keep the faith for which they died.
Page 99 - OF BEAUTY LET us use it while we may Snatch those joys that haste away ! Earth her winter coat may cast, And renew her beauty past : But, our winter come, in vain We solicit Spring again ; And when our furrows snow shall cover Love may return, but never lover.

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