| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Afternoon | | By Emanuel Carnevali |
| | From “The Day of Summer”
OVER our shoulders | |
| Your noisy anger, | |
| O Elevated! | |
| I walk in a fog of sleep, | |
| Not fearing to be awakened any more. | 5 |
| Something queer to drink, | |
| Or going somewhere else, | |
| Another girl— | |
| These are the last visions of salvation. | |
| The dust has blinded | 10 |
| The trees in the park. | |
| The gutters are loose mouths of the drunken Manhattan. | |
| Now at last give them up, your hungry and greasy | |
| And greedy romances. | |
| And you snobs, damn fools, remember you are sweating too. | 15 |
| Now at last be all appeased | |
| In ugliness, | |
| Wallow in the heat, | |
| O sacred soul of the crowd. | |
| No one dies, don’t be | 20 |
| Afraid. | |
| Some life is left. | |
| See the will-o’-the-wisps of lewdness | |
| Burning in all the eyes. | |
| We are alive yet. | 25 |
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| See me scuttle on— | |
| Satisfied enough, | |
| Finding with my almost eager eyes | |
| Not-yet-known breasts and strange thighs | |
| In your sacred crowds, O Manhattan! | 30 | | | |
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