Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Early NightfallScharmel Iris
From “Lyrics”
T
The toiler faints along the marge of sleep.
Within the sunset-press, incarnadine,
The sun, a peasant, tramples out his wine.
The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.
Night with the sickle-moon engarners wheat,
And binds the sheaves of stars beneath her feet.
The brooklet of the meadow lies unstirred.
Sleep, every soul, against a comrade breast!
God grant you peace, and guard you in your rest!