Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
MidnightMax Michelson
From “May in the City”
M
And yet there seems to be a sound
Brooding in it, tearing. I hear it
With all my quivering body
But not with my ears.
Suddenly it bursts—muffled, hoarse, detached
From any earthly object.
It is spring
Charging through the night.