Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
My Lady of the Beeches
By Madison Cawein
HERE among the beeches
    Winds and wild perfume,
That the twilight pleaches
    Into gleam and gloom,
    Build for her a room.        5
Her, whose Beauty cometh,
    Misty as the morn,
When the wild bee hummeth,
    At its honey-horn,
    In the wayside thorn.        10
As the wood grows dimmer,
    With the drowsy night,
Like a moonbeam glimmer
    Here she walks in white,
    With a firefly-light.        15
Moths around her flitting,
    Like a moth she goes;
Here a moment sitting
    By this wilding rose,
    With my heart’s repose.        20
Every bough that dances
    Has assumed the grace
Of her form: and Fancies,
    Flashed from eye and face,
    Brood about the place.        25
And the water, shaken
    In its plunge and poise,
To itself has taken
    Quiet of her voice,
    And restrains its joys.        30
Would that these could tell me
    What and whence she is;
She, who doth enspell me,
    Fill my soul with bliss
    Of her spirit kiss.        35
Though the heart beseech her,
    And the soul implore,
Who is it may reach her—
    Safe behind the door
    Of all woodland lore?        40

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