| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Windows | | By Theodosia Garrison |
| | | THE WINDOWS of the little house look down the crooked lane, | |
| Windows that are watching like a child’s wide eyes; | |
| Hopeful in the sunshine and wistful in the rain | |
| And anxious in the winter when the blown snow flies. | |
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| Morning after morning I walk the fields a mile, | 5 |
| I go to town and back again, I swing the little gate; | |
| But though I lift my face to them the windows never smile, | |
| They only look above my head, and, looking, watch and wait. | |
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| Long since my watching ended—the heart-thrust and the care. | |
| It’s only for the little house I keep its windows bright; | 10 |
| And sometimes on a May-day put a crimson flower there, | |
| Or a lamp that burns unshaded on a wild Fall night. | | | | |
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