Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
BeautyLouis Untermeyer
B
No, on no more passionate and never-ending quests.
I am tired of stumbling after her
Through wild, familiar forests and strange morasses—
Tired of breaking my heart and losing my sleep, following a fitful gleam.
Smiling, looking back over your shoulder with beckoning blushes—
Wanton, trickster, trifler with weak men;
Demanding all and giving nothing in return
But furious dreams and shattering visions.
Not in imagination only, but in the flesh.
You will pursue me with untiring breath, you will press by my side wherever I go.
Even in the muddy squalor and the thick welter of ugliness,
You shall run to me and put your arms about my hips, and cling to me;
And, try as I will, you will never be shaken off.
And knowing (and loving) you, I will thirst for you no longer …
Yes, I shall have you—
For I shall run on recklessly
And you will follow after!