Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
DeirdreMoireen Fox a Cheavasa
N
Where should I sleep when the earth lies on thy heart?
The darkness had no peril when thy arms were round me, Naoise,
But where shall I hide from the night now that I am alone?
The stones that will cover my body are all I desire.
I would I could shut out all but the darkness wherein thou dwellest.
I that had more treasure than the great kings of the world—
I am bare to the wind, without shelter, without love.
Henceforth for ever I have nothing but grief and silence and weeping.