| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Hands | | By Marion Strobel |
| | From “Perennials”
HANDS on the keys I saw—only hands; | |
| And yet her whole life passed before me there, | |
| Passed as she played the lilting, joyous waltz. | |
| Hands—hypocrites—that belied the happy notes they struck; | |
| Tapering fingers of nerves, weighted with glittering ware; | 5 |
| Tired hands, where veins throbbed in the hope they might keep still; | |
| Beautiful, yet too white, wavering wearily on, | |
| Playing the song of life when the dirge of death had begun. | | | | |
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