Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
To L. S.Glenway Wescott
From “Still-hunt”
I
O Wing-of-the-wind,
Why do you chant
Ree, ree, with the mourning-dove,
And dee, dee, with the male gannet—
In the fray of her feathers,
And in the tumult of the dark wave
Where he pillows
In all weathers?
Why the perpetual sway
Of the air?
Why the rift of the heaven
Into light and dark,
Into black and white of division?
They are the storm, which continues
In quiet, in peace, in sunshine,
Healing and building
In the air the airy sinews.