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 Genevieve Taggard
From “The Way Things Go”

YOUR face from my face slips,
Lover of my lips.
Holder of my heart,
For all our close companionships
We are apart.        5
Apart, apart, we are apart.
Crying beauty leaves me dumb,
Your fire cold and still.
I watch the hours of morning come,
And always will,        10
With this dull agony in my heart—
We are apart.
Strong, solemn, stupid-kind,
Parting, we leave behind
Silence where our footsteps sound        15
Dead on the hollow ground.
With a singing river I used to run
Wild with wonder: now
There is no river, there is no sun,
Only an old vow.        20
And this dull chant goes through my head,
And this dull moan sinks in my heart:
Half of my body must be dead,
We are apart.

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