| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Annie Shore and Johnnie Doon | | By Patrick Orr |
| | | ANNIE SHORE, ’twas, sang last night | |
| Down in South End saloon; | |
| A tawdry creature in the light, | |
| Painted cheeks, eyes over bright, | |
| Singing a dance-hall tune. | 5 |
| |
| I’d be forgetting Annie’s singing— | |
| I’d not have thought again— | |
| But for the thing that cried and fluttered | |
| Through all the shrill refrain— | |
| Youth crying above foul words, cheap music, | 10 |
| And innocence in pain. | |
| |
| They sentenced Johnnie Doon today | |
| For murder, stark and grim; | |
| Death’s none too dear a price, they say, | |
| For such-like men as him to pay; | 15 |
| No need to pity him! | |
| |
| And Johnnie Doon I’d not be pitying— | |
| I could forget him now— | |
| But for the childish look of trouble | |
| That fell across his brow, | 20 |
| For the twisting hands he looked at dumbly | |
| As if they’d sinned, he knew not how. | | | | |
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