| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Walk on the Moor | | By Georgia Wood Pangborn |
| | | “TONIGHT is many-sorrowed,” said the moon: | |
| She and the clouds were whirled above the moor; | |
| Small as a glow-worm shone my cottage door. | |
| “Cometh the morning late or over-soon | |
| The night is sorrow’s measure,” ran her rune. | 5 |
| Do ye not hear forgotten littlenesses, | |
| Mother, whose kiss lies warm on children’s tresses? | |
| Hear, then, the soundless rush of elfin shoon, | |
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| Feet that are but the wind across the grass— | |
| How long ago they passed to women’s wailing! | 10 |
| Women whose ancient sorrow leaves you this, | |
| Ye that have borne!—that not a breeze shall pass | |
| Across your hair but ’tis small fingers trailing, | |
| And tears shall sting you at your children’s kiss. | | | | |
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