| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | For All Ladies of Shalott | | By Aline Kilmer |
| | | THE WEB flew out and floated wide: | |
| Poor lady!—I was with her then. | |
| She gathered up her piteous pride, | |
| But she could never weave again. | |
| |
| The mirror cracked from side to side; | 5 |
| I saw its silver shadows go: | |
| “The curse has come on me!” she cried. | |
| Poor lady!—I had told her so. | |
| |
| She was so proud, she would not hide; | |
| She only laughed and tried to sing. | 10 |
| But singing in her song she died; | |
| She did not profit anything. | | | | |
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