Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
ImprovisationCharles deGuire Christoph
From “Reflections”
T
Poet who can hold the pen to paper, for I go
Silently down the neuter-tinted pathways of old streams
Lazily frowning, waiting still the beams
Of suns extended in some dazzling secret sky
To show me beauty on my heart before I die—
Great Beauty shrouded in her multi-colored pall
With kisses for my lips, and sweetness for the gall
That stings them.
So some have always gone;
My burden’s but a little flowery load upon
Old monks and lovers smiling in their graves,
And singing kings somewhere who once were slaves
Like me.
Why scan so long? O poet, say,
“He wandered and he waited till he found where Beauty lay.”