| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Rosy Miller | | By Jeannette Marks |
| | | I DO not ever remember having seen Rosy Miller— | |
| I never met her, | |
| Yet lose her I never can. | |
| It was the speech of a friend that made her live for me— | |
| Rosy Miller, who gave and gave; | 5 |
| Who, a child still, had learned the whole meaning of life, | |
| Who asked nothing, | |
| Who never held a hand out mendicant to others. | |
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| One night at dusk she came down a hill with me— | |
| That was three years ago, that hour at dusk, | 10 |
| And now they say she is dead. | |
| But that is a mistake: | |
| Even for me who never knew her she still lives. | | | | |
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