| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Eos | | By W. Bryher |
| | From “Hellenics”
YOUR face is the flush of Eos: | |
| You are dawn. | |
| Your face is Greece. | |
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| Under your lifted arm | |
| There is lavender to kiss; | 5 |
| Sea-lavender, spiced with salt. | |
| |
| Before the fierce cyclamen wine has burnt my lips, | |
| I kiss your limbs, wild followers of Artemis. | |
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| Your eyes break sleep! | |
| I touch the pansy set below your heart; | 10 |
| Each kiss a star | |
| That fades upon your body, which is dawn. | |
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| April scent of your throat, | |
| O spiced flowers of your shoulders, | |
| Will you shrink from the lion, my heart? | 15 | | | |
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