Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Without WordsMarion Strobel
From “That Year”
T
Before a vivid stillness
That we press
Nearer with words.
We say our usual ritual—close the day
With laughter, while the stillness spreads
A halo round our nodding heads.
Again we praise the little past, praise what is done;
Cling to the days we’ve lost,
And lose the hour we’ve won.