Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
GlaucopisRichard Aldington
O
And now love not at all,
Nor even the memory of your shadowy faces,
Who loved me also,
Striving with delicate and sensuous days
To thrall my soul,
Behold!
From the hush and the dusk
Come, like the whisper of dawn,
Her frail, her magical feet.
From the desert she blossoms,
A flower of the winds,
Tremulous, shaken by love.
And I may not hearken
Nor stoop to the flower.