| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Morning and Night | | By Eda Lou Walton |
| | From “Hill Songs”
WHEN through the curtain’s flutter the sun slips in, | |
| Streaks yellow on the floor and flecks the face of you, | |
| I awake to think of dusting off the red-plush chairs | |
| And of drying steaming dishes a long white hour through. | |
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| I shall sweep light leaves from the wide, strong-pillared porch; | 5 |
| Brush out the feathered dirt with my stiff new broom. | |
| I shall press vine-tendril patterns from wet linen, I shall ruffle | |
| The fresh, starched hangings for the sunny sitting-room. | |
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| All these rushing hurried moments of the morning through | |
| I do not love you, there is too much to do! | 10 |
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| But when the poplar’s shadow by the lake grows tall, | |
| And the fire gleams gold on the tea-cup by your plate, | |
| Then the whole room listens with the wonder of it all, | |
| With a still impatience for your whistle at the gate. | | | | |
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