| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 349. A Legend of the Dove |
| | | By George Sterling |
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| SOFT from the linden’s bough, | |
| Unmoved against the tranquil afternoon, | |
| Eve’s dove laments her now: | |
| “Ah, gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon?” | |
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| That yearning in his voice | 5 |
| Told not to Paradise a sorrow’s tale: | |
| As other birds rejoice | |
| He sang, a brother to the nightingale. | |
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| By twilight on her breast | |
| He saw the flower sleep, the star awake; | 10 |
| And calling her from rest, | |
| Made all the dawn melodious for her sake. | |
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| And then the Tempter’s breath, | |
| The sword of exile and the mortal chain— | |
| The heritage of death | 15 |
| That gave her heart to dust, his own to pain…. | |
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| In Eden desolate | |
| The seraph heard his lonely music swoon, | |
| As now, reiterate; | |
| “Ah, gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon? | 20 |
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