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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Loureine Aber

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Farewell

Loureine Aber

From “Laurel Wreaths”

WILL you latch up the doors,

And hush the lyre that wakes its soul in the corner?

Latch up the doors, and open the windows,

That the wind may come in;

For I go earthward, and shall nevermore return—

Nevermore.

When the Autumn rises like a burnished god,

When the Spring steps over the writhing hills,

When Winter sweeps her robe across the roofs,

And Summer wheels her droning, sleepy bees—

Nevermore.

Will you latch up the doors?—

But hang no yew on the lintel,

And weep no tear in the doorway.

I go skyward, and shall nevermore return:

Though the earth-soul cry at me, whining like a lone lover in the dark;

Though the soil lean her bare, brown bosom toward my cheek.

Latch up the doors!

Still the wailing lyre in the corner!

I go deathward, and shall nevermore return.