Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
These Fields at EveningDavid Morton
T
Their pale proud beauty for some lover’s sake,
Too quiet-hearted evermore to care
For moving worlds and musics that they make;
And they are hushed as lonely women are—
So lost in dreams they have no thought to mark
How the wide heavens blossom, star by star,
And the slow dusk is deepening to the dark.
Leaning across the twilight and the trees;
And finds them grave and beautiful and still,
And wearing always, on such nights as these,
A glimmer less than any ghost of light,
As women wear their beauty through the night.