Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

To an Enemy

I DESPISE my friends more than you.

I would have known myself, but they stood before the mirrors

And painted on them images of the virtues I craved.

You came with sharpest chisel, scraping away the false paint.

Then I knew and detested myself, but not you:

For glimpses of you in the glasses you uncovered

Showed me the virtues whose images you destroyed.