Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
An Old SongDaphne Kieffer Thompson
A
Has echoed in my mind
And will not be dismissed—
A song that tinkles
Of youth’s endearing charms
And love that will not die.
Of this iron time—
Its chasms of hate,
Its lines of cleavage,
Its unsparing sight
And bitter revelations.
The plough is going through us;
We are aghast and stern.
Out of a hundred years
The sweetness of the little song.
It sounds like some faint hidden brook
In a lost fairy land
Of the long ago.