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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  H. Thompson Rich

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Song

H. Thompson Rich

HILLS are all aflower,

Skies are all afire—

Fool was I to sorrow

For a dead desire!

Lo, the April marvel

Stirs the earth again:

Break, my heart, of beauty,

That would not break of pain!