| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Music | | By Amy Lowell |
| | | THE NEIGHBOR sits in his window and plays the flute. | |
| From my bed I can hear him, | |
| And the round notes flutter and tap about the room, | |
| And hit against each other, | |
| Blurring to unexpected chords. | 5 |
| It is very beautiful, | |
| With the little flute-notes all about me, | |
| In the darkness. | |
| |
| In the daytime | |
| The neighbor eats bread and onions with one hand | 10 |
| And copies music with the other. | |
| He is fat and has a bald head, | |
| So I do not look at him, | |
| But run quickly past his window. | |
| There is always the sky to look at, | 15 |
| Or the water in the well! | |
| |
| But when night comes and he plays his flute, | |
| I think of him as a young man, | |
| With gold seals hanging from his watch, | |
| And a blue coat with silver buttons. | 20 |
| As I lie in my bed | |
| The flute-notes push against my ears and lips, | |
| And I go to sleep, dreaming. | | | | |
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