| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | To a Phrase | | By Hazel Hall |
| | | I HAVE been combing the sands of my thought for you— | |
| You | |
| Who left me the trace of your fragrance | |
| In lieu of yourself, | |
| A pungency as of sandalwood, | 5 |
| Or things lain long in lavender, | |
| Very faint, | |
| But of a stabbing sweetness. | |
| Now that I have found you, | |
| Your delicate coloring, | 10 |
| Which once delighted me, | |
| Has faded in the wash of many tides. | |
| Yet you can still | |
| Sting the tears to my eyes, | |
| Little Phrase-someone-said-to-me-long-ago, | 15 |
| Who might have meant so much | |
| But who meant so little. | |
| |
| But I think— | |
| I have untangled you from the seaweed of forgotten things, | |
| I think I shall toss you back into the sea! | 20 | | | |
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