Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Holy LightJohn Hall Wheelock
W
In the darkness of the night,
Moth-like my lost spirit yearns
Nearer in his circling flight.
Onward with each shuddering breath,
Till I flutter, till I pause
In the radiance of death.
All around you reigns the night;
But my agony has fed
You a moment, holy light!