| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 258. The Water Ouzel |
| | | By Harriet Monroe |
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| LITTLE brown surf-bather of the mountains! | |
| Spirit of foam, lover of cataracts, shaking your wings in falling waters! | |
| Have you no fear of the roar and rush when Nevada plunges— | |
| Nevada, the shapely dancer, feeling her way with slim white fingers? | |
| How dare you dash at Yosemite the mighty— | 5 |
| Tall, white-limbed Yosemite, leaping down, down, over the cliff? | |
| Is it not enough to lean on the blue air of mountains? | |
| Is it not enough to rest with your mate at timber-line, in bushes that hug the rocks? | |
| Must you fly through mad waters where the heaped-up granite breaks them? | |
| Must you batter your wings in the torrent? | 10 |
| Must you plunge for life or death through the foam? | |
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