Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
You Died for DreamsArthur L. Phelps
Y
That laid you here. You’re quiet. Shall I tell then
At whose word you went out saying, “O Master!”
And with what strange beauty your dying blessed your men?
You who were ruddy, and the quickest, and so strong.
I shall tell them, I think, after this riot,
That you died for dreams because the world is wrong.