| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 369. The Answer |
| | | By Sara Teasdale |
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| WHEN I go back to earth | |
| And all my joyous body | |
| Puts off the red and white | |
| That once had been so proud, | |
| If men should pass above | 5 |
| With false and feeble pity, | |
| My dust will find a voice | |
| To answer them aloud: | |
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| “Be still, I am content, | |
| Take back your poor compassion!— | 10 |
| Joy was a flame in me | |
| Too steady to destroy. | |
| Lithe as a bending reed | |
| Loving the storm that sways her— | |
| I found more joy in sorrow | 15 |
| Than you could find in joy.” | |
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