| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Charleston, South Carolina | | By Amy Lowell |
| | From “Southern April”
FIFTEEN years is not a long time, | |
| But long enough to build a city over and destroy it; | |
| Long enough to clean a forty-year growth of grass from between cobblestones, | |
| And run street-car lines straight across the heart of romance. | |
| Commerce, are you worth this? | 5 |
| I should like to bring a case to trial: | |
| Prosperity versus Beauty, | |
| Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul. | |
| Then, tonight, I stood looking through a grilled gate | |
| At an old dark garden. | 10 |
| Live-oak trees dripped branchfuls of leaves over the wall; | |
| Acacias waved dimly beyond the gate, and the smell of their blossoms | |
| Puffed intermittently through the wrought-iron scrollwork. | |
| Challenge and solution— | |
| O loveliness of old, decaying, haunted things! | 15 |
| Little streets untouched, shamefully paved, | |
| Full of mist and fragrance on this rainy evening. | |
| “You should come at dawn,” said my friend, | |
| “And see the orioles, and thrushes, and mocking-birds | |
| In the garden.” | 20 |
| “Yes,” I said absent-mindedly, | |
| And remarked the sharp touch of ivy upon my hand which rested against the wall. | |
| But I thought to myself, | |
| There is no dawn here, only sunset, | |
| And an evening rain scented with flowers. | 25 | | | |
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