| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Song | | By Lola Ridge |
| | From “Chromatics”
THAT day in the slipping of torsos and straining flanks, | |
| On the bloodied ooze of fields, plowed by iron, | |
| (And the smoke, bluish near earth and gold in the sunshine, | |
| Floating like cotton down) | |
| Do you remember how we heard | 5 |
| All the Red Cross bands on Fifth Avenue, | |
| And bugles in little home towns, | |
| And children’s harmonicas bleating | |
| AMERICA!— | |
| And the harsh and terrible screaming, | 10 |
| And that strange vibration at the roots of us— | |
| Desire, fierce like a song? | |
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| And after … | |
| Do you remember the drollery of the wind on our faces, | |
| And horizons reeling, | 15 |
| And the terror of the plain, heaving like a gaunt pelvis to the sun | |
| Over us—threshing and twanging | |
| Torn-up roots of the song? | | | | |
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