| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Postlude | | By William Carlos Williams |
| | | NOW that I have cooled to you | |
| Let there be gold of tarnished masonry, | |
| Temples soothed by the sun to ruin | |
| That sleep utterly. | |
| Give me hand for the dances, | 5 |
| Ripples at Philae, in and out, | |
| And lips, my Lesbian, | |
| Wall flowers that once were flame. | |
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| Your hair is my Carthage | |
| And my arms the bow, | 10 |
| And our words arrows | |
| To shoot the stars | |
| Who from that misty sea | |
| Swarm to destroy us. | |
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| But you there beside me— | 15 |
| Oh, how shall I defy you, | |
| Who wound me in the night | |
| With breasts shining | |
| Like Venus and like Mars? | |
| The night that is shouting Jason | 20 |
| When the loud eaves rattle | |
| As with waves above me | |
| Blue at the prow of my desire. | | | | |
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