Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.
Prevision
I
You are so exquisitely sweet:
My lonely house will thrill some day
To echoes of your eager feet.
So few, so infinitely dear;
Watching your fluttering hands I start
At the corroding touch of fear.
From you to Heaven—it is not far!
A mist about your beauty clings
Like a thin cloud before a star.
When you are really gone from me,
And spend its life remembering you
As shells remember the lost sea.