| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | His Majesty the Letter-carrier | | By Emanuel Carnevali |
| | From “The Splendid Commonplace”
HALF past seven in the morning | |
| And the sun winks at me, | |
| Half hidden by the last house of the street. | |
| His long fingers | |
| Scare away these trotting little men | 5 |
| Who rush westward from the east to their jobs. | |
| Laughing, the sun pursues them … | |
| Ah, there he is! | |
| Who?… The letter-carrier, of course! | |
| (What do you think I got up so early for?) | 10 |
| You never see him run— | |
| He is so proud | |
| Because he’s got my happiness in that dirty bag: | |
| He’s got a kiss from my sweetheart, | |
| Some money for me to buy some food, | 15 |
| And a white, nice collar. | |
| That’s why he’s so conceited, | |
| That’s why he wants to show | |
| That he doesn’t know the sun is behind him, | |
| That the laughing sun is behind him | 20 |
| Pushing him along to make him bring me my happiness: | |
| A kiss from my sweetheart, | |
| Some money to buy some food and a clean collar, | |
| And a letter from an editor that says: | |
| “You’re a great poet, young man!” | 25 |
| |
| Damn it! I guess he heard me raving about him: | |
| He passed by my door and didn’t even turn around. | |
| What shall I do, what shall I do? | |
| |
| Oh, never mind—tomorrow, tomorrow! | | | | |
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