Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Tostis GoodbyeWalter McClellan
V
In the fine dust, in the piccaninnies’ tracks.
Now that she is going—does no one see her, no one care?
In their old tight muslins and cashmere shawls.
When the last leaves go,
Dropping one by one on her moving head,
On her hair as soft as cotton when the bolls are bursting open
In November, in the fall:
Dead leaves that touch the maidens—forty-one and thirty-nine—
Rousing in their hearts all the sharp sweet cries
Their mouths have never said;
Till the held-down sighs go flying on before,
Small faint flutters in the thin gold air
Blown like feathers to that gleaming head.