| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Memories | | By Marya Zaturensky |
| | From “Spinners”
Lower New York City at noon hour
THERE is a noise, and then the crowded herd | |
| Of noon-time workers flows into the street. | |
| My soul, bewildered and without retreat, | |
| Closes its wings and shrinks, a frightened bird. | |
| |
| Oh, I have known a peace, once I have known | 5 |
| The joy that could have touched a heart of stone— | |
| The heart of holy Russia beating still, | |
| Over a snow-cold steppe and on a hill: | |
| One day in Kiev I heard a great church-bell | |
| Crying a strange farewell. | 10 |
| |
| And once in a great field, the reapers sowing | |
| Barley and wheat, I saw a great light growing | |
| Over the weary bowed heads of the reapers; | |
| As growing sweeter, stranger, ever deeper, | |
| From the long waters sorrowfully strong, | 15 |
| Came the last echoes of the River Song! | |
| |
| Here in this alien crowd I walk apart | |
| Clasping remembered beauty to my heart! | | | | |
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