dots-menu
×

Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Violet Hunt

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Is It Worth While

Violet Hunt

DEAR, were you ever here?

It has all grown so faint—

Just reminders,

Like the squeak of a bat, the chirp of a starling on the rim of the chimney outside,

As I lie in bed of a morning;

The cry of a new-born kitten,

Or the crawling of a beetle on a slate,

As I sit out in the warm summer evenings.

Yet there are traces

Less intangible….

There is the dear little amateur letter-box

You put in yourself for me,

The knots you made for me in the hammock cords,

The marks of your burnt cigarette-ends

That blemish the corners of tables and shelves.

Well, well!…

One throws away garments, one destroys photographs

That remind one….

Is it worth while to give up a house

Because of such slight aura

As these?