Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
A Thrush in the MoonlightWitter Bynner
From “Presences”
I
Touched me and was near me, and made me very still.
In came a rush of song, raining as from thunder,
Pouring importunate on my window-sill.
The bird-song had stricken me, had brought the moon too near.
But when I dared to lift my head, night began to fill
With singing in the darkness. And then the thrush grew still.