Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Our SorrowAlva N. Turner
Y
And you buried it;
And then you dried
Your tears
As you went your way
Forgetting it:
While mine lives through the years.
Because it died,
And pitied your tears,
Which you have dried;
But they leer at my sorrow
And sneer,
Because it lives through the years.