Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The SpreeKatherine Wisner McCluskey
From “Summer Phases”
I
Earth had high thoughts in trees;
Smiling her apple-blossoms,
Blushing her peach-petals,
Delicate as a sprite.
Making loose gestures with spreading vines;
Guffawing vegetables and fruits—
Harlequin melons, Punchinello squashes—
Hiccoughing cucumbers, stuttering tomatoes.
She is mad-drunk with summer.
Decently covered with the leaf-brown quilt.
She’ll give loud, gusty yawns, then sleep,
Jeered at by rains, pitied by snow;
And wake to chastened, stiff sobriety.