| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Compensation | | By Muna Lee |
| | From “Songs of Many Moods”
I SHALL not grieve that you are dead. | |
| I sing to you when the stars hang low; | |
| And though I sang till dawn were red, | |
| You still must hear, you could not go. | |
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| You are contented, being dead— | 5 |
| You who were used to wander far. | |
| Now I plant flowers at your head, | |
| And steal out nightly where you are. | |
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| Ah, once you wandered far and long. | |
| And left me waiting hopeless here. | 10 |
| Though I sent you my breaking heart in a song, | |
| You were too far—you could not hear. | |
| |
| Now it is I could go oversea, | |
| And though I stayed till years were sped, | |
| You would lie peaceful, waiting me. | 15 |
| I shall not grieve that you are dead. | | | | |
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