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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Jane Heap

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

Notes

Jane Heap

I
WHEN in the spring

I go forth at morn

A-quiver with life I sing:

The world and I, new-born.

Then when I see all rampant growing

Beds of tulips o’er the plain,

Like pools and lakes of color glowing,

I would fain

Outstrip all speed, run

Naked in the sun,

Plunge, riot, be immersed,

Quench this color-thirst!

II
Where go the birds when the rain

Roars and sweeps and fells the grain,

When tortured trees groan with pain,

And the storm-worn night is old—

Driven forth from their slumber cold,

Where go the birds?