Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Is It Worth WhileViolet Hunt
D
It has all grown so faint—
Just reminders,
Like the squeak of a bat, the chirp of a starling on the rim of the chimney outside,
As I lie in bed of a morning;
The cry of a new-born kitten,
Or the crawling of a beetle on a slate,
As I sit out in the warm summer evenings.
Less intangible….
There is the dear little amateur letter-box
You put in yourself for me,
The knots you made for me in the hammock cords,
The marks of your burnt cigarette-ends
That blemish the corners of tables and shelves.
One throws away garments, one destroys photographs
That remind one….
Is it worth while to give up a house
Because of such slight aura
As these?