Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Marjorie Meeker
From “At Sea”
To A. B. G., U. S. S. M.——

        Far out at sea a sail is drifting
Like a petal,
Like a white moth,
Like a scrap of paper blown by the wind.
O white-petal sail
Like a moth,
Like a scrap of paper,
Like me!
O ebb and flow and infinitude of the sea
As strange, as insurgent, as inevitable
As my love!

MY lover is a sailor.
  If he misses me at all
The gold-eyed daisies tell me—
  One—two—three—the petals fall.
In some sunny southern harbor,        5
  Where the girls line up to see
Les Americains—“Bonjour, M’sieur!”
  He will pass them by for me.
Every day I greet a sailor
  Walking lonely down the street—        10
Give him cigarettes, a sweater,
  Or a box of something sweet;
And I tell him, if he’s thinking
  Of a girl somewhere out west,
Not to worry or be lonesome,        15
  Just keep liking her the best.
One—two—three—the daisies tell me,
  Four—five—six—the petals drop;
Seven—eight—nine—yes, he still loves me,
  He will never, never stop!        20
And those black-eyed French cocottes
  With strange words upon their lips,
Waiting there with smiles of welcome
  For the sailors from the ships—
Much—a little—not at all        25
  (He’s so far away, so free!)
Loves me not—but last, he loves me!
  He will pass them by for me.

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