Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Harp of the Wind
By Frances Shaw
M
Where the harp of the wind
Plays all day,
Plays all night;
And the city light
Is far away.
High in the air—
Over the sea?
Where the lines of light go sweeping down,
Are the strings of its minstrelsy.
Gives to the wind
A song of the city’s tears;
Thin and faint, the cry of a child,
Plaint of the soul unreconciled,
A song of the passing years.