Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Philip Becker Goetz
THEY might be the grim Parcae of old Greece,
The three worn women whom I oft behold
Pass my warm window in the biting cold
Across the square decent with falling fleece.
Sometimes, as now, when the arc-lights increase,        5
The wrinkled faces suddenly unfold
A revelation those taut lips withold
From utterance. O Time, wilt thou ne’er cease
To chisel thus thy bitter, cruel sway
Upon the yielding masks of these thy slaves?        10
How better far they never saw the sun,
But in Pentelic womb all dreaming lay,
Safe from thy wasteful, groping hand that graves
A million souls to shape one Parthenon!

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