Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Love Was Dead All DayAlfred Kreymborg
From “Toadstools”
I
Scourge me with a thousand thongs!
The crowds that passed me atoms were:
Plunge me into a vat of tar!
Love was dead all day.
Hang me from the city gallows!
His harem, pride and vanity:
Throw my body to Doodle Dandy!
Love was dead all day.
Let him stick it on a pike;
Let him dance through every street
For all to jeer, for all to damn.
Love was dead all day.
Into the public pool of shame;
And raise a stone that all may read,
Those that live and those to come,
“Love was dead all day.”