Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Snow MorningHilda Conkling
From “Song Nets”
Song nets, I weave you with all my love. You glitter like pearls and rubies, In you I catch songs like butterflies. You go past my reaching hand With a thin gauzy floating, And the songs are caught Before they fade away. Last night My hand caught a song Of pines and quiet rivers: I shall keep it forever.
M
With snow-puffed branches
Out of the wind;
With the sky caught like a blue feather
In the butternut tree.
I cannot see the world behind the snow;
But when I look into my mind,
There, with all its people and colors,
The world sits smiling
Quite warm and cosy.