Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Wind SleepersH. D.
W
than the crust
left by the tide,
we are stung by the hurled sand
and the broken shells.
sleep in the wind.
We awoke and fled
through the Peiraeic gate.
tear us an altar.
Tug at the cliff-boulders,
pile them with the rough stones.
We no longer
sleep in the wind.
Propitiate us.
that never halts.
Pace a circle and pay tribute
with a song.
breaks into it,
pour meted words
of sea-hawks and gulls
and sea-birds that cry
discords.