| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Futility | | By Dorothy Dow |
| | From “Handful of Ashes”
THE NIGHTS grow long and the days cold— | |
| I dream of you and love. | |
| The dead leaf, falling from the tree, | |
| Is not more sad than memory; | |
| Nor is the rising wind as bold | 5 |
| As were your lips on me…. | |
| (What are you thinking of?) | |
| |
| The streets and trees and people pass | |
| Like words beneath my pen; | |
| Symbols, below a painted sky— | 10 |
| I have no part in them. I lie | |
| Futile as footsteps on the grass. | |
| Wind-torn, storm-drenched; I long to die. | |
| (You might remember … then.) | | | | |
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