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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Louis Untermeyer

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

End of the Comedy

Louis Untermeyer

ELEVEN o’clock, and the curtain falls.

The cold wind tears the strands of illusion;

The delicate music is lost

In the blare of home-going crowds

And a midnight paper.

The night has grown martial;

It meets us with blows and disaster.

Even the stars have turned shrapnel,

Fixed in silent explosions.

And here at our door

The moonlight is laid

Like a drawn sword.