| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Fuchsias and Geraniums | | By Charles Erskine Scott Wood |
| | | WHAT is Life? | |
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| To me, life is to sit on these stone steps | |
| Under the peach-tree, eating green almonds, | |
| Watching the indolent shadow arabesques | |
| Shift on the terrace; | 5 |
| While you couch on the coping of the steps | |
| On cushions of velvet from old Venice, | |
| Reading Endymion. | |
| Up from the city far below | |
| Comes the noon-scream of whistles. | 10 |
| I watch the shadows of the slim peach-leaves, | |
| Gently finger your brown, soft-coiled hair, | |
| And know the sun is in love. | |
| |
| Suddenly a lustrous humming-bird | |
| Poises under the bell of a fuchsia flower, | 15 |
| His green back shimmering opal fire. | |
| He hangs there a moment, a jewel, suspended from nothing— | |
| How can his wings move so fast? | |
| He is gone. | |
| Sun-god, are you a mechanic, a painter, designer? | 20 |
| A yellow butterfly wanders aimlessly, | |
| So it seems to me, among the red geraniums. | |
| It is gone. | |
| |
| The fuchsias are gouts of blood; | |
| The geraniums are leaping flames. | 25 |
| You couch on the coping of the steps | |
| On cushions of velvet of old Venice: | |
| And I am suspended before you a moment. | |
| This to me is life. | |
| |
| It is gone. | 30 | | | |
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