| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Invocation to Death | | By Emanuel Carnevali |
| | From “Neuriade”
LET me | |
| Close my eyes tight. | |
| Still my arms, | |
| Let me | |
| Be. | 5 |
| Then, | |
| Come! | |
| Let me be utterly alone: | |
| Do not let the awful understanding that comes with | |
| The thought of Death | 10 |
| Bother me. | |
| Your love was not strong enough to hold me. | |
| |
| Death takes things away: | |
| I have them here in my hands, | |
| The rags. | 15 |
| |
| I do not understand the cosmic humor | |
| That lets foolish impossibilities, like me, live. | |
| |
| I have made a mess of it, | |
| But I am no debtor. | |
| |
| It’s the yearning of a nervous man, | 20 |
| The yearning for peace, | |
| The curiosity for a word: | |
| Forever. | |
| |
| If She would only come quietly, | |
| Like a lady— | 25 |
| The first lady and the last. | |
| |
| Just not to hear any longer | |
| The noise swelling from the morning streets, | |
| Nor the two desperate sparrows chirruping; | |
| Just not to fear any longer | 30 |
| The landlady. | | | | |
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