| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Is It Worth While | | By Violet Hunt |
| | | DEAR, were you ever here? | |
| It has all grown so faint— | |
| Just reminders, | |
| Like the squeak of a bat, the chirp of a starling on the rim of the chimney outside, | |
| As I lie in bed of a morning; | 5 |
| The cry of a new-born kitten, | |
| Or the crawling of a beetle on a slate, | |
| As I sit out in the warm summer evenings. | |
| |
| Yet there are traces | |
| Less intangible…. | 10 |
| There is the dear little amateur letter-box | |
| You put in yourself for me, | |
| The knots you made for me in the hammock cords, | |
| The marks of your burnt cigarette-ends | |
| That blemish the corners of tables and shelves. | 15 |
| |
| Well, well!… | |
| One throws away garments, one destroys photographs | |
| That remind one…. | |
| Is it worth while to give up a house | |
| Because of such slight aura | 20 |
| As these? | | | | |
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