| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Stranger | | By Scudder Middleton |
| | | I AM the lonely man the crowds pass by; | |
| I am the listener in the dim-lit room above the street; | |
| I am he who waits and knows not why. | |
| O City, have you no gift for me? | |
| Have you no healing word to speak, | 5 |
| No voice of all your many voices I can understand? | |
| I have come a long way over roads that wounded; | |
| I entered your streets with a dream in my breast. | |
| Be not cruel, for I came to love you: | |
| Show me a flower or the face of a friend! | 10 | | | |
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