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 John Russell McCarthy
  THERE, little swimmer—that was a good, game fight.
If you’d gone down again ….. but all’s well now—
The shore is close now, scarce a quarter-mile,
And we’ll be drinking tea before you know it.
  Slow work, girlie, it does seem slow, I know—        5
But that’s no matter, so we’re moving in.
The wind, I think, is holding us back a little.
  Odd that there isn’t anyone in sight!
It seems we’ll have to make it by ourselves.
We must keep moving in. My arm, my arm—        10
It’s all right now, I see it’s moving yet,
But I can’t feel it. Strange …
                    This wind …
                            The water
Is fishy—did you notice that? It smells.
And then it pulls, keeps pulling, pulling ….. Cold.
  No, dear, that’s not the way we go, not down.        15
That was a strange idea, to go down.
  Still, curly-head, it seems quite simple, too:
You always had uncommon notions, dear,
And figured out such strange adventures always.
This new idea may be very fine;        20
It may be even wild enough for you,
My little wild one. For there will be caves—
You’ll pick us out a little wonder-cave
With golden portals—golden as your hair.
It will be very cozy, with four rooms—        25
And always the clear cool water—you and I
Will find weird flowers in strange and secret gardens—
You and I—
            Yes—you are always right—
We’ll go—my love—we’ll go adventuring—

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