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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Maurice Browne

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

To Her Who Passes

Maurice Browne

HER footsteps fall in silent sands;

Her hands are cool like growing leaves;

The fingers of her hovering hands

Touch lightly, pass; and time bereaves

The benison of her caress

Of peace, or pain, or bitterness.

The kisses of her mouth like dew

Rain gently down; if she has sinned,

That she had sinned she never knew;

Lightly she walks upon the wind,

And like the wind she leaves no trace

Upon the quiet of this place.