| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Doctor of Geneva | | By Wallace Stevens |
| | From “Sur Ma Guzzla Gracile”
THE DOCTOR of Geneva stamped the sand | |
| That lay impounding the Pacific swell, | |
| Patted his stove-pipe hat and tugged his shawl. | |
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| Lacustrine man had never been assailed | |
| By such long-rolling opulent cataracts, | 5 |
| Unless Racine or Bossuet held the like. | |
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| He did not quail. A man so used to plumb | |
| The multifarious heavens felt no awe | |
| Before these visible, voluble delugings, | |
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| Which yet found means to set his simmering mind | 10 |
| Spinning and hissing with oracular | |
| Notations of the wild, the ruinous waste, | |
| |
| Until the steeples of his city clanked and sprang | |
| In an unburgherly apocalypse. | |
| The doctor used his handkerchief and sighed. | 15 | | | |
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