| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Hit | | By Wilfrid Wilson Gibson |
| | From “Battle”
OUT of the sparkling sea | |
| I drew my tingling body clear, and lay | |
| On a low ledge the livelong summer day, | |
| Basking, and watching lazily | |
| White sails in Falmouth Bay. | 5 |
| |
| My body seemed to burn | |
| Salt in the sun that drenched it through and through, | |
| Till every particle glowed clean and new | |
| And slowly seemed to turn | |
| To lucent amber in a world of blue … | 10 |
| |
| I felt a sudden wrench— | |
| A trickle of warm blood— | |
| And found that I was sprawling in the mud | |
| Among the dead men in the trench. | | | | |
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