| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Dead Pecos Town | | By Kate Buss |
| | | ABOVE the steep arroyo of russet running straight with rose | |
| The Pecos pueblo sleeps— | |
| A mound of dust timbered with bones. | |
| Three silver yuccas flower on the grave. | |
| For headstone, cut by frost and all its edges shriveled by the desert heat, | 5 |
| A mission leans against the wide still sky. | |
| I too am watching with time. | |
| Where I stand, the crusted gravel cracks | |
| And ghosts of seven centuries are stirred. | |
| Shards of painted pots lie like mosaic on a shattered floor. | 10 |
| A frost-white shin-bone rattles down the slope, | |
| Strikes a fellow and finds the plain. | |
| Jaws are set and dead mouths smile— | |
| Bones of martyrs, pioneers. | |
| Feet that once were dancing lie with rain gods, | 15 |
| And thin broken spears. | | | | |
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