Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
Your Words
By Athena McFadden
 
God gave you words, so you must give them to me.
Let me lie here on the ground
Breaking brittle pine-needles with my fingers.
You have no right to keep a gift
God gave you words, so you must give them to me.        5
 
        YOUR words are perfect things—
          They are birds with full smooth breasts.
        That fly in wide clean skies
          And sleep in warm brown nests.
 
        Your words are little globes        10
          Of glass, or ruby-flake;
        They tinkle in the air
          And whisper as they break.
 
        Your words are little ships
          With silver shining sails,        15
        That sing against the winds
          Like purple nightingales.
 
        Your words are colored fruits
          In crystal jars, and tall.
        You break them with your lips;        20
          I catch them as they fall.
 
So give me your words. Let them slip
Cool fingers through my hair.
There is no world but me, no heaven but you …
Somewhere outside of these there may be birds,        25
And fruit, and ships, and little crystal globes.
 
For me there are only your words …
 
 
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