| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Sub Terra | | By William Carlos Williams |
| | From “Root Buds”
WHERE shall I find you— | |
| You, my grotesque fellows | |
| That I seek everywhere | |
| To make up my band? | |
| None, not one | 5 |
| With the earthy tastes I require: | |
| The burrowing pride that rises | |
| Subtly as on a bush in May. | |
| |
| Where are you this day— | |
| You, my seven-year locusts | 10 |
| With cased wings? | |
| Ah, my beauties, how I long! | |
| That harvest | |
| That shall be your advent— | |
| Thrusting up through the grass, | 15 |
| Up under the weeds, | |
| Answering me— | |
| That shall be satisfying! | |
| The light shall leap and snap | |
| That day as with a million lashes! | 20 |
| |
| Oh, I have you! | |
| Yes, you are about me in a sense, | |
| Playing under the blue pools | |
| That are my windows. | |
| But they shut you out still | 25 |
| There in the half light— | |
| For the simple truth is | |
| That though I see you clear enough … | |
| You are not there. | |
| |
| It is not that—it is you, | 30 |
| You I want, my companions! | |
| God! if I could only fathom | |
| The guts of shadows!— | |
| You to come with me | |
| Poking into negro houses | 35 |
| With their gloom and smell! | |
| In among children | |
| Leaping around a dead dog! | |
| Mimicking | |
| Onto the lawns of the rich! | 40 |
| You! | |
| To go with me a-tip-toe | |
| Head down under heaven, | |
| Nostrils lipping the wind! | | | | |
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