| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | I Have Found My Beloved | | By Helen Hoyt |
| | From “The Harp”
| | Strike—strike! |
| Already the strings of me quiver, |
| Vibrate, |
| With the imagining of your fingers … |
| Strike!—set free these aching sounds! |
| Strike harshly, wildly—loud, |
| O strong, beautiful!— |
| Till the strings cry out, |
| Till the strings are torn with the fierceness of your hands’ delight, |
| With the agony of their own music, |
| With the agony of their releasing. |
| |
| Broken. |
| Still. |
I HAVE found my beloved in the time of apple blossoms— | |
| O pink blossoms, white blossoms, fragrance of love! | |
| I have found my beloved in the time of apple blossoms— | |
| O beauty and fragrance! | |
| Soon will the apples push out their green sides, | 5 |
| Soon will they round into happy red— | |
| The boughs of the trees will bend and be weighed down with that ripe burden, | |
| With that rich burden of fruit, | |
| That fragrance of red! | | | | |
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