| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Danny | | By Malcolm Cowley |
| | From “Three Portraits”
YOU marched off southward with the fire of twenty, | |
| Proud of the uniform that you were wearing. | |
| The girls made love to you, and that was plenty; | |
| The drums were beating and the horns were blaring. | |
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| From town to town you fought, and bridge to bridge, | 5 |
| Thinking: “So this is Life; so this is Real.” | |
| And when you swept up Missionary Ridge, | |
| Laughing at death, you were your own ideal. | |
| |
| But when you limped home, wounded and unsteady, | |
| You found the world was new to you; your clutch | 10 |
| On life had slipped, and you were old already. | |
| So who can blame you if you drink too much, | |
| |
| Or boast about your pride when no one sees, | |
| Or mumble petulant inanities? | | | | |
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