Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The SkyElizabeth Madox Roberts
From “Talk from the Dust”
I
And heard a bluejay going by.
A shadow went across the ground,
And I looked up and saw the sky.
But while I looked it did not stay;
It gave a tiny sort of jerk
And moved a little bit away.
It moved and never seemed to stop.
I think it must be tied with chains,
And something pulls it from the top.
And every time I look to see,
The sky is always slipping back
And getting far away from me.