| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Symphonie Pathétique | | By Robert J. Roe |
| | From “Interplanes”
YOUR bundle of balanced hair, beloved—soft, silky, letting lights | |
| Slip down to darkness; | |
| Juggling lights fantastically, colored lights dripping like the chords of dreamed music; | |
| Your eyes absorbing blue, giving out blue | |
| As though your face were turned forever to an unseen sky; | 5 |
| Your hands pointed like almonds, | |
| White like ivory traced with blue enamel: | |
| These are gone. | |
| I see these | |
| No more. | 10 |
| |
| Gus, the romantic lad, plays old plaintive melodies on the mandolin, | |
| Trying to make me know he understands. | |
| But I am feeling the slide | |
| Of your hand on my forehead, | |
| Hand like weather-stained ivory | 15 |
| Written on in faded blue ink…. | |
| I have chords of wistful music | |
| Crowding for you to open the gate, | |
| To drift off like smoke | |
| Over aged hills. | 20 | | | |
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