Harriet Monroe Poems

Still he lies,
Pale, wan, and strangely wise.
Under the white coverlet
He lies here sleeping yet,
...

She grew, like other girls and flowers,
Sheltered and tended daintily;
And told her dolls, through sunny hours,
...

Queen Karomana, slim you stand,
In bronze with little flecks of gold—
Queen Karomana.
O royal lady, lift your hand,
...

Oh gay and shining June time!
Oh meadow brave and bright,
Abloom with little children,
All tossing in the light!
...

Where bold Sierras cut the sky
Mount Whitney, of the high most high,
Halts the pale clouds that wander by.
...

Through the red dusk of war they flew
From Shiloh to the sea.
Black fumes from shattered bolts that blew
Withered the colors three,
...

Wind of the desert, softly blow
Across the cañon shining wide.
Lightly among the temples go
...

Flowers grow in the grass,
Baby footfalls pass
Over the fields once red,
Over the hero's head—
...

Why do the wheels go whirring round,
Mother, mother?
Oh, mother, are they giants bound,
And will they growl forever?
...

So light and soft the days fall—
Like petals one by one
Down from yon tree whose flowers all
Must vanish in the sun.
...