| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | The Drinker | | By H. Thompson Rich |
| | | TIRED of the world and weary of its ways, | |
| Lonely and old and broken now, he nods | |
| Among the idols he mistook for gods, | |
| A ruin in the wreck of yesterdays. | |
| And since his mad past must be hung in haze, | 5 |
| Since he must fog his senses lest he think | |
| How youth and hope and all were lost in drink, | |
| Since he must never know how high he pays, | |
| He sits and sips and gives himself to dreams, | |
| Fond dreams wherein he sees himself again | 10 |
| The lad who thought that life was all it seems. | |
| And now there is a glory in his eyes; | |
| Forgotten are the bitterness and pain | |
| Of the rue years—this is his paradise. | | | | |
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