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 George O’Neil
From “Wings of Spring”

DEAR one, I cannot tell you in a word
How sweet I think you are, for you are gone—
Gone like a lovely song that I have heard,
But never learned, from new-leaved woods at dawn.
I think of fluting from a distant hill        5
Blown in the spring by some light shepherd boy,
Startling the winds and making birds be still;
And in my soul awakes a sudden joy—
A joy that rising to my lips must die
With such pain as the night feels when afar        10
Day’s silver fingers slip along the sky
And tremble up to take a fainting star.
You are the memory that a dream awakes
Like dwindling music that an echo makes.

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