| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Now | | By Harriet Monroe |
| | Yosemite Valley
IT is creation’s morning— | |
| Freshly the rivers run. | |
| The cliffs, white brows adorning, | |
| Sing to the shining sun. | |
| |
| The forest, plumed and crested, | 5 |
| Scales the steep granite wall. | |
| The ranged peaks, glacier-breasted, | |
| March to the festival. | |
| |
| The mountains dance together, | |
| Lifting their domed heads high. | 10 |
| The cataract’s foamy feather | |
| Flaunts in the streaming sky. | |
| |
| Somewhere a babe is borning, | |
| Somewhere a maid is won. | |
| It is creation’s morning— | 15 |
| Now is the world begun. | | | | |
|
|
