Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Muna Lee
From “Songs of Many Moods”

  THERE is no flower that would hide from him
  The mystic secret that the woodland knows—
  Not johnny-jump-ups in the shadows dim,
  Not foxglove nor the delicate pale rose,
  Nor any smallest forest thing that grows.        5
  For he is lover and interpreter
  To all shy life that blooms or sings, or goes
  Fur-clad or wingèd. He knows every burr,
That clings to Summer’s hem, and each brown insect’s whir.
  He loves the screech-owl and the screaming jay;        10
  His heart is tender to the fleet-winged swallow,
  To sea-gulls and to sparrows at their play,
  And to the hook-beaked hawks that swiftly follow.
  The marsh-hen, building by the sedgy shallow,
  Is not more gentle with her brood than he,        15
  Who finds her nest beside the tall rose-mallow,
  And lifts aside the fern, that he may see
Her little fledglings there, and woo them cunningly.
  For him the forest is shot through with song—
  Wren-song and thrush-song thrilling from the trees,        20
  Bee-song shut close in mountain-pink; and strong
  Sweet arrowy notes from bugles of the breeze.
  With a laughing, curious lover’s eyes he sees
  The sycamores, nymph-white, shake out their hair,
  Green as the locks of lithe-limbed Nereides.        25
  All things we dream of in the forest there
Are real to him, for whom a flower is a prayer.

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