| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Stalks of Wild Hay | | By H. L. Davis |
| | From “To the River Beach”
I CAN shake the wild hay, and wet seed sticks to my hand. | |
| The white lower stalks seem solid. Yellow flowers | |
| Grow in the sun, with dog fennel, near apple trees. | |
| White petals carry to this water. So plants breed. | |
| But I, the man who would have put up his life | 5 |
| Against less pleasure than yours, against your black hair | |
| And your deep mouth, ask that no man my friend | |
| Find me in this wild hay now or tonight | |
| To remind me how worthless this was which was so dear. | |
| It is late for me to see grass-stalks my first time, | 10 |
| And for this trouble of spirit to come to an end. | | | | |
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