| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Thanks for a Season | | By David Greenhood |
| | | MY thanks to Thee are rhythmed air— | |
| Ring out, bell … sea! | |
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| The meadow lark feels the swing of morning, | |
| Chortles a carol of coming day; | |
| The milkman tinkles down a stony street; | 5 |
| The merchant click-a-clacks past a row of stores, | |
| And opens his own with a click-a-click of keys; | |
| A huckster’s wagon, fresh with country scents, | |
| Wheezes along; the reveller’s hack | |
| Whirs down the avenue toward the dark in the west | 10 |
| Whence come cathedral chimes; | |
| At town’s end the sun bends in afresh, | |
| Makes roadside pools iridescent with dawn; | |
| A new pale sweet now blows over gutter ways, | |
| And eastern walls of jail turn mellow pink, | 15 |
| And numbed hills delight in opening poppies: | |
| I think this day, | |
| Lord, these be my prayer! | | | | |
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