Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
After VespersAjan Syrian
From “I Sing of My Life While I Live It”
T
From the chapel.
Dreaming, I linger here alone,
Ever unsatisfied, yearning.
Softly the gray Silence enters, and sits beside me.
Her palms are flushed
From the brow of the passionate city.
She laid them there for a cool blessing of peace;
Now, their touch quivers me.
She is shod with unworded prayers.
Violets from the spring twilight are her eyes,
Deep with desire.