Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
In the Dark CityJohn Hall Wheelock
T
Through the long watches of the lonely night
When, like a cemetery,
Sleeps the dark city, with her millions laid each in his tomb.
Suddenly, like some secret thing not to be overheard,
It ceases—
And the gray night grows dumb.
Linger those veiled adagios, fading, fading …
Till, with the morning, they are lost.
What worlds undreamed of lie around us in our sleep,
That yet we may not know?
Where is it one sat playing
Over and over, with such high and dreadful peace,
The passion and sorrow of the eternal doom?