| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Words about Love | | By Mark Turbyfill |
| | From “Journeys and Discoveries”
I CANNOT tell you what it is waits beyond love; | |
| Nor what it means, the still hour after. | |
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| I can think only of a wide field of poppies afire | |
| On driven stems, dashed in the gale. | |
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| I cannot touch you now. | 5 |
| I lie beside you chill. My heart has waned cold. | |
| A high white mountain has breathed upon my heart. | |
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| Let us gather out of our thoughts a poppy cloak | |
| To draw about this strangeness. | |
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| I cannot tell you what it is waits beyond love; | 10 |
| Nor what it means, the still hour after. | | | | |
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