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 Moireen Fox a Cheavasa
NOW thou art hidden, I have no place of rest.
Where should I sleep when the earth lies on thy heart?
The darkness had no peril when thy arms were round me, Naoise,
But where shall I hide from the night now that I am alone?
The stones that will cover my body are all I desire.        5
The light of the sun is a burden too heavy for me.
I would I could shut out all but the darkness wherein thou dwellest.
I that had more treasure than the great kings of the world—
I am bare to the wind, without shelter, without love.
Henceforth for ever I have nothing but grief and silence and weeping.        10

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