Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
To VoulettiMercedes de Acosta
From “Through Windows”
T
Not a breeze that’s blown,
Not a sweet fragrant tree,
That is not you to me.
In the moonlight, the whole long while,
I feel the pressure of your hand,
And feeling this I understand.
The depths of life, the secret wings
That carry beyond the dreary way,
Turning dark to light, and night to day.
I know better because of you;
While your sweetness is like a warm fresh shower,
And your face and soul like a sun-kissed flower.