dots-menu
×

Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Iris Barry

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

Double

Iris Barry

THROUGH the day, meekly,

I am my mother’s child.

Through the night riotously

I ride great horses.

In ranks we gallop, gallop,

Thundering on

Through the night

With the wind.

But in the pale day I sit, quiet.