| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Summer | | By David Morton |
| | | FROM what lost centuries that were sweet before, | |
| Comes this long wave of Summer, bursting white | |
| In shivered apple-blossoms on the shore | |
| That is our homeland for a day and night! | |
| A wide, hushed spirit floats above the foam, | 5 |
| A sweetness that was ancient flower and face, | |
| When wine-red poppies stained the walls of Rome, | |
| And daisies starred those summer fields of Thrace. | |
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| Something survives and haunts the leafy shade, | |
| Some fragrance that was petals once, and lips, | 10 |
| And whispered, brief avowals that they made— | |
| Borne hither, now, in vague, invisible ships, | |
| Whose weightless cargoes, poured upon the air, | |
| Are flowers forgot, and faces that were fair. | | | | |
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