| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Heart Knoweth Its Own Bitterness | | By Aline Kilmer |
| | | THE HEART knoweth? If this be true indeed, | |
| Then the thing that I bear in my bosom is not a heart, | |
| For it knows no more than a hollow, whispering reed | |
| That answers to every wind. | |
| I am sick of the thing. I think we had better part. | 5 |
| |
| My heart would come to any piper’s calling— | |
| A fool in motley that dances for any king; | |
| But my body knows, and its tears unbidden falling | |
| Say that my heart has sinned. | |
| You would have my heart? You may. I am sick of the thing. | 10 | | | |
|
|
