Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Sand DunesJanet Norris Bangs
T
And a waving line of land,
With pines that grow in a wind-swept row
As set by a dreamer’s hand;
And where the winds will, in hollow or hill,
Sand and sand and sand.
Drifting, eddying, whirled—
Sweeping into the valleys,
Over the grasses swirled,
And billowing up to the tree-tops
That look out on the world.
New for each passer fleet.
Here a flower has lain, there the leaf-like chain
That was marked by a sea-gull’s feet;
And the pebbled trace as of scalloped lace
Where the waves and the shore-line meet.
When the little waves run white,
While gay wings fan the shining span
And float a song in flight;
And the lupine blue spreads a heaven new
Where the stars might rest till night.
When haunting voices blow
Over twilight-faded water
From trees of long ago,
Hushed by the drifting silence
As by eternal snow.
Caught while your sun was high,
Buried deep in the sand-dune’s keep,
Is all of life gone by?
Can a springing bough lift your glory now
And give it back to the sky?