| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Alone on the Hill | | By Frederick R. McCreary |
| | From “Hillside Poems”
ALONE on the hill | |
| In the warm October noon, | |
| With the woods below | |
| And beyond their brilliance the sea: | |
| The moment has come, | 5 |
| The rapt still instant of being, | |
| When water and wood are gone. | |
| There is nothing now | |
| But the on-running fluid of hours | |
| Gleaming with blue, yellow, crimson. | 10 |
| Now quick! Let me run on sharp stones, | |
| Let me strangle in surf choked with the bitter salt-water! | |
| Let me feel pain, feel torture, | |
| And the acid hunger of loneliness! | |
| Give me self, self— | 15 |
| Before I am lost | |
| In this madness of space eternal, | |
| This horror of dream triumphant. | | | | |
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