Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Amy Lowell
BE not angry with me that I bear
  Your colors everywhere,
  All through each crowded street,
    And meet
  The wonder-light in every eye,        5
    As I go by.
Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,
  Blinded by rainbow-haze,
  The stuff of happiness,
    No less,        10
  Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds
    Of peacock golds.
Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way
  Flushes beneath its gray.
  My steps fall ringed with light,        15
    So bright
  It seems a myriad suns are strown
    About the town.
Around me is the sound of steepled bells,
  And rich perfumèd smells        20
  Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,
    And shroud
  Me from close contact with the world.
    I dwell, impearled.
You blazon me with jewelled insignia.        25
  A flaming nebula
  Rims in my life. And yet
    You set
  The word upon me, unconfessed,
    To go unguessed.        30

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