| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Teresina’s Face | | By Margaret Widdemer |
| | | HE saw it last of all before they herded in the steerage, | |
| Dark against the sunset where he lingered by the hold, | |
| The tear-stained dusk-rose face of her, the little Teresina, | |
| Sailing out to lands of gold: | |
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| Ah, the days were long, long days, still toiling in the vineyard, | 5 |
| Working for the coins that set him free to go to her, | |
| Where gay it glowed, the flower face of little Teresina, | |
| Where the joy and riches were: | |
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| Hard to find one rose-face where the dark rose-faces cluster, | |
| Where the outland laws are strange and outland voices hum, | 10 |
| (Only one lad’s hoping, and the word of Teresina, | |
Who would wait for him to come!)
. . . . . . | |
| God grant he may not find her, since he might not win her freedom, | |
| Nor yet be great enough to love, in such marred, captive wise, | |
| The patient, painted face of her, the little Teresina, | 15 |
| With its cowed, all-knowing eyes! | | | | |
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