Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
She Weeps over RahoonJames Joyce
R
Where my dark lover lies.
Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling
At grey moonrise.
How desolate the heart is, ever calling,
Ever unanswered—and the dark rain falling
Then as now.
As his sad heart has lain
Under the moon-grey nettles, the black mould
And muttering rain.