Harriet Monroe Poems

WHEN sunshine met the wave,
Then love was born;
Then Venus rose to save
A world forlorn.
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Allegro
Wake ! wake !
Out of the snow and the mist,
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He loved her and he was untrue—
Untrue he was, let loved her still;
For out of nether darkness drew
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Would you not be in Tryon
   Now that the spring is here,
When mocking-birds are praising
   The fresh, the blossomy year?
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The wind comes riding down from heaven.
Ho! wind of heaven, what do you bring?
Cool for the dawn, dew for the even,
And every sweetest thing.
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GOOD-BY: nay, do not grieve that it is over—
The perfect hour;
That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover,
Flits from the flower.
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The forest was a shrine for her,
A temple richly dressed;
And worshippers the tall trees were,
Each to his prayer addressed.
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The Fisk Street turbine power station in Chicago

The invisible wheels go softly round and round—
Light is the tread of brazen-footed Power.
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Dear Wanderer—
The sky is gray,
With flecks of blue
The clouds rush over.
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You are a painter—listen—
I'll paint you a picture too!
Of the long white lights that glisten
Through Michigan Avenue;
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