Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
My Heart is HeavySara Teasdale
From “Memories”
M
Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree;
And I can never give you one—
My songs do not belong to me.
When moths go to and fro,
In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen,
Take it—no one will know.