| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Sermon | | By Emanuel Carnevali |
| | From “Neuriade”
CHAO-MONG-MU freely laid his hands over the sky: | |
| You do not know how to lay your hands over the breasts of your beloved. | |
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| Chao-Mong-Mu made the tree dance at his will: | |
| You do not know how to hug a rough tree and say “darling” to it. | |
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| Chao-Mong-Mu magnificently ran a shaft of sunlight to smash against the treetops: | 5 |
| You walk carefully, carefully, and fend off the sunlight with your grey clothes, although you’re very poor. | |
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| Chao-Mong-Mu painted a sky that was a pink-fleshed vase; then he became a very small thing and hid in the vase: | |
| You build yourselves immense houses to live in, and you are afraid even there. | | | | |
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