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 Marion Strobel
From “That Year”

LET us not linger over a good-bye:
It is not fitting
That in this too casual life
I, who called you wife
So many weeks ago,        5
Should stretch past glory
Into present woe.
You are not more to me—
Leaning now against the lintel of my door
And quavering your stagy, “Nevermore to live with you”—        10
You are not more to me
Than a familiarity of face
And figure.
You ask if I remember
That Sunday in December—        15
Why treat finality
Weaving an intricate fatuity of sighs and words
About a simple ending,
Pretending that we        20
Achieve tragedy!
Quietly you cross the room—assume
That I am unaware of every beauty that there is
In you:
“We can be friends?”—oh, God!—you touch my hand        25
In the accustomed way,
And so
In the accustomed way it ends:
You do not go,
We are not friends.        30
And so it ends.

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