| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | On the Train | | By Harriet Monroe |
| | From “Notes of Travel”
I THE LADY in front of me in the car, | |
| With little red coils close over her ears, | |
| Is talking with her friend; | |
| And the circle of ostrich foam around her hat, | |
| Curving over like a wave, | 5 |
| Trembles with her little windy words. | |
| What is she saying, I wonder, | |
| That her feathers should tremble | |
| And the soft fur of her coat should slip down over her shoulders? | |
| Has her string of pearls been stolen, | 10 |
| Or maybe her husband? | |
| |
II He is drunk, that man— | |
| Drunk as a lord, a lord of the bibulous past. | |
| He shouts wittily from his end of the car to the man in the corner; | |
| He bows to me with chivalrous apologies. | 15 |
| He philosophizes, plays with the wisdom of the ages, | |
| Flings off his rags, | |
| Displays his naked soul— | |
| Athletic, beautiful, grotesque. | |
| In the good time coming, | 20 |
| When men drink no more, | |
| Shall we never see a nude soul dancing | |
| Stript and free | |
| In the temple of his god? | |
| |
III She comes smiling into the car | 25 |
| With iridescent bubbles of children. | |
| She blooms in the close plush seats | |
| Like a narcissus in a bowl of stones. | |
| She croons to a baby in her lap— | |
| The trees come swinging by to listen, | 30 |
| And the electric lights in the ceiling are stars. | | | | |
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