| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | White Azaleas in Magnolia Gardens | | By Beatrice Ravenel |
| | From “Tidewater”
YOUR images in water! Sea-shell gray | |
| And iridescence; like the endless spawn | |
| Of pale sea-jellies on a moonless night— | |
| A milky way that glamours out of sight— | |
| Something of sea and something of the sky. | 5 |
| Drawn from the earth as blossoming dreams are drawn, | |
| Most strange are you in this, that dreams alight and fly, | |
| But you dream on all your translucent day. | |
| |
| Sweeps of divinest nothingness, abyss | |
| Of beauty, you are the stirred, subconscious place | 10 |
| Of flowers, you are the rathe and virgin mood | |
Of young azaleas.
Where heaped branches brood | |
| Like bathers, water-girdled to the hips, | |
| Like Undines, every blossom turns her face | |
| Groping above the water, with her parted, winged, insatiable lips, | 15 |
| Each for her soul and its white mysteries. | | | | |
|
|
