Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Wind and MoonlightViola I. Paradise
T
Shrieking and yelling about my house;
Tearing at the walls with frantic iron claws.
Striking with frenzied panicked paws
At my windows.
I’m glad it has no mind
As it freaks about my room
Rattling every loose thing.
And I’m glad I’m in bed,
Safe from its maniac mood.
And beats them against the side of the house
And tears them.
The full moon,
Large,
In a naked sky,
Looks down serenely on the anguished trees—
The stiff creaking branches, the scurrying leaves,
Helpless, undignified, in frightened flight.
That monstrous moon,
That great, strong, big full moon
Who sways a million tides with a little gesture—
That powerful, insolent moon—
Looks down, and tolerates the wind!
Bald sluggard moon!—lets the mad wind rage,
Countenances it!
Sheds shameless light on all its obscene passions!
Is there no limit to indecency?