Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
Helen Is Ill
By Roscoe W. Brink
WHEN she is ill my laughter cowers;
An exile with a broken rhyme,
My head upon the breast of time,
I hear the heart-beat of the hours;
I close my eyes without a sigh;        5
The vision of her flutters by
As glints the light of Mary’s eyes
Upon the lakes in Paradise.
I seem to reach an olden town
And enter at the sunset gate;        10
And as the streets I hurry down,
I find the men are all elate,
As if an angel of the Lord
Had passed with dearest word and nod,
Remembered like a yearning chord        15
Of songs the people sing to God;
I come upon the sunrise gate—
As silent as her listless room—
There seven beggers sing and wait
And this the song that breaks the gloom:        20
God a ’mercy is most kind;
She the fairest passed this way;
We the lowest were not blind;
God a ’mercy bless the day.

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