Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Song
By John Hall Wheelock
A
I bared one day to her.
Carelessly she took it,
And like a conqueror
She bowed the neck of my soul
To fit it to her yoke,
And bridled the lips of Song—
Fear within me awoke!
But Love cried: “Swiftly, swiftly
Bear her along the road;
Beautiful is the goal
And Beauty is the goad.”