Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
UnityHelen Hoyt
From “The Harp”
Y
Oh, do not love me so much!
Sometimes there are moments
Fear comes to me because of our love;
That it is a prison about me,
That it owns me,
Owns the separateness of me.
We who have been so intricately one,
Let us be two.
For finally there is never one,
And unity is but annihilation.
Dissolve me from this closeness;
Give me back to myself,
Myself to my own self again.
Oh, let us be two. Two!