Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
PleaseDorothy Butts
From “The Passers-by”
G
Though they be very plain:
The quaint old tune Joanna sings,
The small house in a lane,
Whose fragrance meets the open door;
The faded carpet on the floor,
The patient peace of furniture—
Familiar things I can endure.
Heard praise, and scorning afterward;
I have met eyes that did not smile,
And now I ask for my reward.
I know the panoramic strand
Of happiness, and grief’s sequence.
Rough grains have scratched my venturous hand.
I beg no tribute nor defence;
I only ask familiar things—
The quaint old tune Joanna sings.