Harriet Monroe

(23 December 1860 – 26 September 1936 / Chicago, Illinois)

Harriet Monroe Poems

41. Love Songs 4/16/2010
42. The Water Ouzel 1/4/2003
43. The Thief On The Cross 4/16/2010
44. I Love My Life, But Not Too Well 4/24/2012
45. Nancy Hanks 4/16/2010
46. The Temple Of Vishnu 4/16/2010
47. Mountain Song 4/16/2010
48. The Ocean Liner 4/16/2010
49. At The Ship’s Rail 4/16/2010
50. On The Train 4/16/2010
51. Our Canal 4/16/2010
52. Myself 4/16/2010
53. A Letter From Peking 4/16/2010
54. The Wonder Of It 4/16/2010
55. Ære Perennius 4/16/2010
56. From The Commemoration Ode 4/16/2010
57. The Night-Blooming Cereus 4/16/2010
58. His Stenographer 4/16/2010
59. The Telephone 4/16/2010
60. Deserted 4/16/2010
61. Lake Louise 4/16/2010
62. A Portrait 4/16/2010
63. A Garden In The Desert 4/16/2010
64. The Shadow-Child 4/16/2010
65. For Peace 4/16/2010
66. At The Grand Cañon 4/16/2010
67. Battle-Flags Of Illinois 4/16/2010
68. At The Summit 4/16/2010
69. A Play Festival In Ogden Park 4/16/2010
70. In The Louvre 4/16/2010
71. A Little Old Maid 4/16/2010
72. For A Child 4/16/2010
73. At Twilight 4/16/2010
74. A Letter To One Far Away 4/16/2010
75. A Power-Plant 4/16/2010
76. A Farewell 4/16/2010
77. After Sunset 4/16/2010
78. The Message Of The Wind 4/16/2010
79. April -- North Carolina 1/4/2003
80. A Story 4/16/2010
Best Poem of Harriet Monroe

In The Beginning

WHEN sunshine met the wave,
Then love was born;
Then Venus rose to save
A world forlorn.

For light a thousand wings
Of joy unfurled,
And bound with golden rings
The icy world.

And color flamed the earth
With glad desire,
Till life sprang to the birth,
Fire answering fire,

And so the world awoke,
And all was done,
When first the ocean spoke
Unto the sun.

Read the full of In The Beginning

A Letter From Peking

October I5th, 1910.
My friend, dear friend, why should I hear your voice
Over the Babel of voices, suddenly
Calling as from the new world to the old?
Hush!—are you weary? would you follow me?
Would you make dark the house, and shut the door,
Summon steam-pacing trains, wave-racing ships,
To bear you past the high assembled nations—
Past the loud cries, the plucking hands of the age—

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