| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Ghosts of Past Time | | By Martha Foote Crow |
| | | AN INTERMINABLE procession of ghosts of past time | |
| Floats continually by me in my dreams. | |
| |
| And they all reach out their hands to me, | |
| Warning, appealing, commanding. | |
| A few seem benign; | 5 |
| But though their touch is soft as snow, | |
| They have a grip like iron. | |
| |
| Some were builders, and they cry, “Build like me!” | |
| And some were wiseacres, and they demand, “Think like me!” | |
| And some were poets, and they whisper, “Sing like me!” | 10 |
| |
| I throw you off, O you ghosts of past time! | |
| As for me, | |
| I will work along your tiresome squares and cubes, | |
| But I will not build like you, O builders! | |
| I will eat your nauseous wisdoms, O wiseacres, | 15 |
| But I will not think like you! | |
| I will move in your deepest rhythms, | |
| But I will not sing like you, O poets! | |
| Like myself only will I think and build and sing— | |
| And not like any of you! | 20 |
| Even you, my veritable brothers | |
| Who died but yesterday, | |
| I am not thinking of you— | |
| But of some one to be born tomorrow. | | | | |
|
|
