Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
ShallowsFrances Dickenson Pinder
From “Marsh Sketches”
I
Overlong have I stayed
Here on the warm shale;
Aimlessly played….
Gathering sea-shells
Empty and frail.
Where the tides creep—
Grows dazzled,
Gazing too long through the clear
Wave at the sun asleep
On the sands overnear….
What if the thought of the deep
Should become a fear?
Lest the urge fail,
Darken duskward
And fade, as a sail.