| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | In the Park | | By Max Michelson |
| | From “May in the City”
I AM slowly wheeling my child | |
| In the swarming park. | |
| The sky sheds skeins of darkness | |
| As delicate as light. | |
| The stars curl in their coverlets | 5 |
| And allow the thin light | |
| To drift from between their fingers. | |
| The moon, like an earnest priest, | |
| Seems bent on holy business. | |
| But the trees are capricious: they display or conceal | 10 |
| Part of a torso or a knee, or reveal | |
| A poem of branches. The little water is thick with mystery | |
| As a lake in a forest. The grass | |
| Tickles my soles, and I can feel | |
| The earth under, rich | 15 |
| Yet almost incoherent. | | | | |
|
|
