| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Sea Marsh | | By Frances Dickenson Pinder |
| | From “Marsh Sketches”
LIKE a woman who remembers | |
| Is the marsh— | |
| A woman who forgives, and yet | |
| Whose every mood is dimmed | |
| Because, forgiving, | 5 |
| She cannot ever quite forget. | |
| |
| None knows her secret heart— | |
| One can but guess | |
| What crying winds have stirred | |
| To dumb distress | 10 |
| Her quietness; | |
| What sodden rains have trampled her; | |
| What lust of August suns. | |
| She has no words: | |
| Impassive, inarticulate | 15 |
| Save for the flight of birds— | |
| Slow heron, slumbrous crane— | |
| She keeps her counsel. | |
| Though cities bloom and fade | |
| And forests fall, | 20 |
| She does not change; | |
| The slow years pause … pass, | |
| And leave no trace— | |
| Like snowflakes on a peasant’s face. | |
| So long | 25 |
| The seasons have defrauded her, | |
| There is no festival | |
| Upon her calendar; | |
| In spring, no hint of welcoming | |
| For the few flowers | 30 |
| That seek her smile; | |
| No song upon her lips … | |
| How should she sing? | |
| For nothing whole is hers, | |
| No perfect gift— | 35 |
| Only the spent and broken things | |
| That drift | |
| In from the unrepentant sea. | | | | |
|
|
