Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Aero-metreRobert M. McAlmon
From “Flying”
I
I blend with subtle infinity.
The wing wires of my plane
Whistle a monotone
That lulls my earthy unrest
To sleep.
The faint blur before me
Of whirring propellers
Soothes my eyes.
I have no objective.
The sky is bare;
The here and there
Have equal values.
There is no ultimate to strive for—
Only higher air.
Thinner and more fair.
But tediously pendulates
In measured expansion
Far below.