| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Holy Writ | | By Arthur Davison Ficke |
| | | IT does not seem so many years ago— | |
| Those nights when I lay shivering in my bed | |
| And saw the candle-light round my aunt’s head | |
| Casting its hazy sanctifying glow; | |
| And heard her read strange story after story | 5 |
| Of Jonah, Adam, Moses, Esau, Ruth, | |
| Of Solomon’s old age and David’s youth— | |
| Things haunting, tender, terrible or gory. | |
| Still can I see the Queen of Sheba’s hair; | |
| And all real lions are but mockery | 10 |
| To him who once knew Daniel’s; there’s no tree | |
| That can with Eve’s great Paradise Tree compare: | |
| A golden light gleamed through that ancient air | |
| That leaves me homesick in modernity. | | | | |
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