Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

A Letter

Harold Holston Wright

YOU smile perhaps when I write “Spring” to you,

Who know so well my window but reveals

A space of factory walls, and smoke-soiled blue—

That square of sky above. But here one feels

April in March, and prescience of the May.

Spring’s not a matter just of birds or trees;

It’s something subtler, unheard, unseen—a way

Joy surges up in every face one sees.

Shut me from sky or light, I’m sure I’d know

The day that Spring first breathed across the snow,

Even as now I sense it everywhere

And find my window’s grimy picture fair.