| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | A Blockhead | | By Amy Lowell |
| | | BEFORE me lies a mass of shapeless days, | |
| Unseparated atoms, and I must | |
| Sort them apart and live them. Sifted dust | |
| Covers the formless heap. Reprieves, delays, | |
| There are none, ever. As a monk who prays | 5 |
| The sliding beads asunder, so I thrust | |
| Each tasteless particle aside, and just | |
| Begin again the task which never stays. | |
| And I have known a glory of great suns, | |
| When days flashed by, pulsing with joy and fire! | 10 |
| Drunk bubbled wine in goblets of desire, | |
| And felt the whipped blood laughing as it runs! | |
| Spilt is that liquor, my too hasty hand | |
| Threw down the cup, and did not understand. | | | | |
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