| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Searchlight | | By John Rodker |
| | | THE SEARCHLIGHTS over London | |
| Are like the fingers of a woman, | |
| Wandering over the dead form of a lover. | |
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| She had not thought to do that | |
| While he was living, | 5 |
| To better know his loveliness; | |
| Or if she had | |
| He’d stopped her with his kisses. | |
| Now in her great grief | |
| Her fingers are to her | 10 |
| Sight and sound and hearing. | |
| |
| By all the ways of sense | |
| She knows him lost to her, | |
| Yet cannot voice her grief. | |
| |
| Only can she raise white hands towards the heavens, | 15 |
| And passionate cursings and great grief; | |
| Yet no sign comes, no portent. | |
| Oh, if one blistering tear might come from on high | |
| To crumple up and twist the earth, | |
| She’d know her nightly passion not so vain— | 20 |
| When her first pang | |
| Burst the heavens with howling of guns! | | | | |
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