Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
To a Dead Mouse in a Trap
By Roy Temple House
 
WE are born short of sight; but some of us,
Some who are human, grow to presbyopes
And set lack-lustre eyes on distant stars
And infinite impersonals: the children
Who worship gilt and sugar, break their gods        5
(Breaking their hearts with every bitter blow),
And pin their faith to others; till at last,
Finding this life a plated thing, they turn
To Heaven, to a listless second choice.
 
Happy the scattered, joyous polytheists        10
Who, loving God and gossip, prayers and gold,
Float smoothly here and yonder, like the bee
Who, finding that bloom dry, falls into this one.
And, failing of such versatility,
I have been tempted now and then to call        15
Happy a young lieutenant I have known,
Who held both arms out to the Long-desired
And clasped the bloody earth with those two arms.
 
Yes—as I drop you on the garbage-heap,
Tiny crushed glutton, I half envy you.        20
 
 
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