Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Faeries FoolAnna Fitch
T
Weaving wild spells that I might do their will:
(Laughing they spoke—and yet my mother wept,
Cuddling me closer still!)
Go thou and serve the world’s most foolish things:
Whistle through thumbs to moldy garden-seeds,
And brush the wood-gnat’s wings.
To pay the tavern’s score for wine and bread.
Go thou, small soul, and spend thy elfin coin,
And make thy storm-swept bed.”