Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
When I Am OldMarjorie Allen Seiffert
I
The whisper of April rain
Through grey-green days, upon my window-pane,
Shall speak as now of mornings bright and fine—
The days of gold,
When sticky buds, bursting with leafy wonder,
Turn every one into a gay cockade,
Worn tilted up or tilted under
Those twisty April branches, bare of shade.
For lovers, they but fit the old design
Earth never has outworn;
And without envy I shall say,
Nodding my head, “It used to be the same
In my own day!”