Chapter I: Saw the Clouds

I saw the clouds among the hills
Trailing their plumes of rainy gray.
The purple of the woods behind
Fell down to where the valley lay
In sweet satiety of rain,
With ripened fruit, and full filled grain.

I saw the graves, upon the plain,
Of pioneers, who took the land,
And tamed the stubborn elements
Till they were gentle to the hand.
Their children, now in fortune’s ways,
Dwell in their father’s palaces.

I saw some old forgotten lays;
And treasured volumes I passed by.
They were but repetitions cheap
For any hucksterer to buy.
The clouds, the graves, the worn old song,
I bear them in my heart along.

Margaret Widdemer

THE BEGGARS

The little pitiful, worn, laughing faces,
Begging of Life for Joy!

I saw the little daughters of the poor,
Tense from the long day’s working, strident, gay,
Hurrying to the picture-place. There curled
A hideous flushed beggar at the door,
Trading upon his horror, eyeless, maimed,
Complacent in his profitable mask.
They mocked his horror, but they gave to him
From the brief wealth of pay-night, and went in
To the cheap laughter and the tawdry thoughts
Thrown on the screen; in to the seeking hand
Covered by darkness, to the luring voice
Of Horror, boy-masked, whispering of rings,
Of silks, of feathers, bought—so cheap!—with just
Their slender starved child-bodies, palpitant
For beauty, laughter, passion—that is life:
(A frock of satin for an hour’s shame,
A coat of fur for two days’ servitude;
“And the clothes last,” the thought runs on, within
The poor warped girl-minds drugged with changeless days;
“Who cares or knows after the hour is done?”)
—Poor little beggars at Life’s door for Joy!

The old man crouched there, eyeless, horrible,
Complacent in the marketable mask
That earned his comforts—and they gave to him!

But ah, the little painted, wistful faces
Questioning Life for Joy!

TERESINA’S FACE

He saw it last of all before they herded in the steerage,
Dark against the sunset where he lingered by the hold,
The tear-stained dusk-rose face of her, the little Teresina,
Sailing out to lands of gold:

Ah, the days were long, long days, still toiling in the vineyard,
Working for the coins that set him free to go to her,
Where gay it glowed, the flower face of little Teresina,
Where the joy and riches were:

Hard to find one rose-face where the dark rose-faces cluster,
Where the outland laws are strange and outland voices hum,
(Only one lad’s hoping, and the word of Teresina,
Who would wait for him to come!)

· · · · ·

God grant he may not find her, since he might not win her freedom,
Nor yet be great enough to love, in such marred, captive wise,
The patient, painted face of her, the little Teresina,
With its cowed, all-knowing eyes!

GREEK FOLK SONG

Under dusky laurel leaf,
Scarlet leaf of rose,
I lie prone, who have known
All a woman knows.

Love and grief and motherhood,
Fame and mirth and scorn—
These are all shall befall
Any woman born.

Jewel-laden are my hands,
Tall my stone above—
Do not weep that I sleep,
Who was wise in love.

Where I walk, a shadow gray
Through gray asphodel,
I am glad, who have had
All that life can tell.

Florence Wilkinson

OUR LADY OF IDLENESS

They in the darkness gather and ask
Her name, the mistress of their endless task.

_The Toilers_

Tinsel-makers in factory gloom,
Miners in ethylene pits,
Divers and druggists mixing poisonous bloom;

Huge hunters, men of brawn,
Half-naked creatures of the tropics,
Furred trappers stealing forth at Labrador dawn;

Catchers of beetles, sheep-men in bleak sheds,
Pearl-fishers perched on Indian coasts,
Children in stifling towers pulling threads;

Dark bunchy women pricking intricate laces,
Myopic jewelers’ apprentices,
Arabs who chase the long-legged birds in sandy places:

They are her invisible slaves,
The genii of her costly wishes,
Climbing, descending, running under waves.

They strip earth’s dimmest cell,
They burn and drown and stifle
To build her inconceivable and fragile shell.

_The Artist-Artisans_

They have painted a miracle-shawl
Of cobwebs and whispering shadows,
And trellised leaves that ripple on a wall.

They have broidered a tissue of cost,
Spun foam of the sea
And lilied imagery of the vanishing frost.

Her floating skirts have run
Like iridescent marshes,
Or like the tossed hair of a stormy sun.

Her silver cloak has shone
Blue as a mummy’s beads,
Green as the ice-glints of an Arctic zone.

She is weary and has lain
At last her body down.
What, with her clothing’s beauty, they have slain!

_The Angel With the Sword_

Come, brothers, let us lift
Her pitiful body on high,
Her tight-shut hands that take to heaven no gift
But ashes of costly things.
We seven archangels will
Bear her in silence on our flame-tipped wings.

_The Toilers_

Lo, she is thinner than fire
On a burned mill-town’s edge,
And smaller than a young child’s dead desire.

Yea, emptier than the wage
Of a spent harlot crying for her beauty,
And grayer than the mumbling lips of age.

_A Lost Girl_

White as a drowned one’s feet
Twined with the wet sea-bracken,
And naked as a Sin driven from God’s littlest street.

STUDENTS

John Brown and Jeanne at Fontainebleau—
’Twas Toussaint, just a year ago;
Crimson and copper was the glow
Of all the woods at Fontainebleau.
They peered into that ancient well,
And watched the slow torch as it fell.
John gave the keeper two whole sous,
And Jeanne that smile with which she woos
John Brown to folly. So they lose
The Paris train. But never mind!—
All-Saints are rustling in the wind,
And there’s an inn, a crackling fire—
(It’s _deux-cinquante_, but Jeanne’s desire);
There’s dinner, candles, country wine,
Jeanne’s lips—philosophy divine!
There was a bosquet at Saint Cloud
Wherein John’s picture of her grew
To be a Salon masterpiece—
Till the rain fell that would not cease.
Through one long alley how they raced!—
’Twas gold and brown, and all a waste
Of matted leaves, moss-interlaced.
Shades of mad queens and hunter-kings
And thorn-sharp feet of dryad-things
Were company to their wanderings;
Then rain and darkness on them drew.
The rich folks’ motors honked and flew.
They hailed an old cab, heaven for two;
The bright Champs-Elysées at last—
Though the cab crawled it sped too fast.

Paris, upspringing white and gold:
Flamboyant arch and high-enscrolled
War-sculpture, big, Napoleonic—
Fierce chargers, angels histrionic;
The royal sweep of gardened spaces,
The pomp and whirl of columned Places;
The _Rive Gauche_, age-old, gay and gray;
The _impasse_ and the loved café;
The tempting tidy little shops;
The convent walls, the glimpsed tree-tops;
Book-stalls, old men like dwarfs in plays;
Talk, work, and Latin Quarter ways.

May—Robinson’s, the chestnut trees—
Were ever crowds as gay as these?
The quick pale waiters on a run,
The round green tables, one by one,
Hidden away in amorous bowers—
Lilac, laburnum’s golden showers.
Kiss, clink of glasses, laughter heard,
And nightingales quite undeterred.
And then that last extravagance—
O Jeanne, a single amber glance
Will pay him!—“Let’s play millionaire
For just two hours—on princely fare,
At some hotel where lovers dine
_A deux_ and pledge across the wine!”
They find a damask breakfast-room,
Where stiff silk roses range their bloom.
The garçon has a splendid way
Of bearing in _grand déjeuner_.
Then to be left alone, alone,
High up above Rue Castiglione;
Curtained away from all the rude
Rumors, in silken solitude;
And, John, her head upon your knees—
Time waits for moments such as these.

Marguerite Wilkinson

A WOMAN’S BELOVED
_A Psalm_

To what shall a woman liken her beloved, And with what shall she compare him to do him honor? He is like the close-folded new leaves of the woodbine, odorless, but sweet, Flushed with a new and swiftly rising life, Strong to grow and give glad shade in summer. Even thus should a woman’s beloved shelter her in time of anguish.

And he is like the young robin, eager to try his wings, For within soft-stirring wings of the spirit has she cherished him, And with the love of the mother bird shall she embolden him, that his flight may avail.

A woman’s beloved is to her as the roots of the willow, Long, strong, white roots, bedded lovingly in the dark. Into the depths of her have gone the roots of his strength and of his pride, That she may nourish him well and become his fulfilment. None may tear him from the broad fields where he is planted!

A woman’s beloved is like the sun rising upon the waters, making the dark places light, And like the morning melody of the pine trees. Truly, she thinks the roses die joyously If they are crushed beneath his feet. A woman’s beloved is to her a great void that she may illumine, A great king that she may crown, a great soul that she may redeem. And he is also the perfecting of life, Flowers for the altar, bread for the lips, wine for the chalice.

You that have known passion, think not that you have fathomed love. It may be that you have never seen love’s face. For love thrusts aside storm-clouds of passion to unveil the heavens, And, in the heart of a woman, only then is love born.

To what shall I liken a woman’s beloved, And with what shall I compare him to do him honor? He is a flower, a song, a struggle, a wild storm, And, at the last, he is redemption, power, joy, fulfilment and perfect peace.

AN INCANTATION

O great sun of heaven, harm not my love;
Sear him not with your flame, blind him not with your beauty,
Shine for his pleasure!

O gray rains of heaven, harm not my love;
Drown not in your torrent the song of his heart,
Lave and caress him.

O swift winds of heaven, harm not my love;
Bruise not nor buffet him with your rough humor,
Sing you his prowess!

O mighty triad, strong ones of heaven,
Sun, rain, and wind, be gentle, I charge you—
For your mad mood of wrath have me—I am ready—
But spare him, my lover, most proud and most dear,
O sun, rain and wind, strong ones of heaven!

William Carlos Williams

SICILIAN EMIGRANT’S SONG

_In New York Harbor_

O—eh—lee! La—la!
Donna! Donna!
Blue is the sky of Palermo;
Blue is the little bay;
And dost thou remember the orange and fig,
The lively sun and the sea breeze at evening?
Hey—la!
Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! La—la!
Donna! Donna!
Gray is the sky of this land.
Gray and green is the water.
I see no trees, dost thou? The wind
Is cold for the big woman there with the candle.
Hey—la!
Donna! Donna! Maria!

O—eh—li! O—la!
Donna! Donna!
I sang thee by the blue waters;
I sing thee here in the gray dawning.
Kiss, for I put down my guitar;
I’ll sing thee more songs after the landing.
O Jesu, I love thee!
Donna! Donna! Maria!

PEACE ON EARTH

The Archer is wake!
The Swan is flying!
Gold against blue
An Arrow is lying.
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Bears are abroad!
The Eagle is screaming!
Gold against blue
Their eyes are gleaming!
Sleep!
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

The Sisters lie
With their arms intertwining;
Gold against blue
Their hair is shining!
The Serpent writhes!
Orion is listening!

Gold against blue
His sword is glistening!
Sleep!
There is hunting in heaven—
Sleep safe till tomorrow.

THE SHADOW

Soft as the bed in the earth
Where a stone has lain—
So soft, so smooth and so cool,
Spring closes me in
With her arms and her hands.

Rich as the smell
Of new earth on a stone,
That has lain, breathing
The damp through its pores—
Spring closes me in
With her blossomy hair;
Brings dark to my eyes.

METRIC FIGURE

There is a bird in the poplars—
It is the sun!
The leaves are little yellow fish
Swimming in the river;
The bird skims above them—
Day is on his wings.
Phoenix!
It is he that is making
The great gleam among the poplars.
It is his singing
Outshines the noise
Of leaves clashing in the wind.

SUB TERRA

Where shall I find you—
You, my grotesque fellows
That I seek everywhere
To make up my band?
None, not one
With the earthy tastes I require:
The burrowing pride that rises
Subtly as on a bush in May.

Where are you this day—
You, my seven-year locusts
With cased wings?
Ah, my beauties, how I long!
That harvest
That shall be your advent—
Thrusting up through the grass,
Up under the weeds,
Answering me—
That shall be satisfying!
The light shall leap and snap
That day as with a million lashes!

Oh, I have you!
Yes, you are about me in a sense,
Playing under the blue pools
That are my windows.
But they shut you out still
There in the half light—
For the simple truth is
That though I see you clear enough ...
You are not there.

It is not that—it is you,
You I want, my companions!

God! if I could only fathom
The guts of shadows!—
You to come with me
Poking into negro houses
With their gloom and smell!
In among children
Leaping around a dead dog!
Mimicking
Onto the lawns of the rich!
You!
To go with me a-tip-toe
Head down under heaven,
Nostrils lipping the wind!

SLOW MOVEMENT

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space is Mightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams: All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continually Against the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them; Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining; Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.

But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night! And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures; For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepy As they are now.

POSTLUDE

Now that I have cooled to you
Let there be gold of tarnished masonry,
Temples soothed by the sun to ruin
That sleep utterly.
Give me hand for the dances,
Ripples at Philae, in and out,
And lips, my Lesbian,
Wall flowers that once were flame.

Your hair is my Carthage
And my arms the bow,
And our words arrows
To shoot the stars
Who from that misty sea
Swarm to destroy us.

But you there beside me—
Oh, how shall I defy you,
Who wound me in the night
With breasts shining
Like Venus and like Mars?
The night that is shouting Jason
When the loud eaves rattle
As with waves above me
Blue at the prow of my desire.

Charles Erskine Scott Wood

THE POET IN THE DESERT
_Extracts from the Prologue_

I have come into the Desert because my soul is athirst as the Desert is athirst; My soul which is the soul of all; universal, not different. We are athirst for the waters which make beautiful the path And entice the grass, the willows and poplars, So that in the heat of the day we may lie in a cool shadow, Soothed as by the hands of quiet women, listening to the discourse of running waters as the voices of women, exchanging the confidences of love.

· · · · ·

The mountains afar girdle the Desert as a zone of amethyst; Pale, translucent walls of opal, Girdling the Desert as Life is girt by Eternity. They lift their heads high above our tribulation Into the azure vault of Time; Theirs are the airy castles which are set upon foundations of sapphire. My soul goes out to them as the bird to her secret nest. They are the abode of peace.

· · · · ·

The flowers bloom in the Desert joyously— They do not weary themselves with questioning; They are careless whether they be seen, or praised. They blossom unto life perfectly and unto death perfectly, leaving nothing unsaid. They spread a voluptuous carpet for the feet of the Wind And to the frolic Breezes which overleap them, they whisper: “Stay a moment, Brother; plunder us of our passion; Our day is short, but our beauty is eternal.”

Never have I found a place, or a season, without beauty. Neither the sea, where the white stallions champ their bits and rear against their bridles, Nor the Desert, bride of the Sun, which sits scornful, apart, Like an unwooed princess, careless, indifferent. She spreads her garments, wonderful beyond estimation, And embroiders continually her mantle. She is a queen, seated on a throne of gold In the Hall of Silence. She insists upon humility. She insists upon meditation. She insists that the soul be free. She requires an answer. She demands the final reply to thoughts which cannot be answered. She lights the sun for a torch And sets up the great cliffs as sentinels: The morning and the evening are curtains before her chambers. She displays the stars as her coronet. She is cruel and invites victims, Restlessly moving her wrists and ankles, Which are loaded with sapphires. Her brown breasts flash with opals. She slays those who fear her, But runs her hand lovingly over the brow of those who know her, Soothing with a voluptuous caress. She is a courtesan, wearing jewels, Enticing, smiling a bold smile; Adjusting her brilliant raiment negligently, Lying brooding upon her floor which is richly carpeted; Her brown thighs beautiful and naked. She toys with the dazzelry of her diadems, Smiling inscrutably. She is a nun, withdrawing behind her veil; Gray, subdued, silent, mysterious, meditative; unapproachable. She is fair as a goddess sitting beneath a flowering peach-tree, beside a clear river.

Her body is tawny with the eagerness of the Sun And her eyes are like pools which shine in deep cañons. She is beautiful as a swart woman, with opals at her throat, Rubies on her wrists and topaz about her ankles. Her breasts are like the evening and the day stars; She sits upon her throne of light, proud and silent, indifferent to her wooers. The Sun is her servitor, the Stars are her attendants, running before her. She sings a song unto her own ears, solitary, but it is sufficient— It is the song of her being. Oh, if I may sing the song of my being it will be sufficient. She is like a jeweled dancer, dancing upon a pavement of gold; Dazzling, so that the eyes must be shaded. She wears the stars upon her bosom and braids her hair with the constellations.

I know the Desert is beautiful, for I have lain in her arms and she has kissed me. I have come to her, that I may know freedom; That I may lie upon the breast of the Mother and breathe the air of primal conditions. I have come out from the haunts of men; From the struggle of wolves upon a carcass, To be melted in Creation’s crucible and be made clean; To know that the law of Nature is freedom.

Edith Wyatt

ON THE GREAT PLATEAU

In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Cool-breathed waters dip and dally, linger towards another day— Far and far away—far away.

Slow their floating step, but tireless, terraced down the great Plateau. Towards our ways of steam and wireless, silver-paced the brookbeds go. Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the back-locked river’s ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards, towards horizons blue and bay. All the roofs the roads ensconce so dream of visions far away— Santa Cruz and Ildefonso, Santa Clara, Santa Fé. Ancient, sacred fears and faiths, ancient, sacred faiths and fears— Some were real, some were wraiths—Indian, Franciscan years, Built the Khivas, swung the bells; while the wind sang plain and free, “Turn your eyes from visioned hells!—look as far as you can see!” In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, Dying dreams divide and dally, crystal-terraced waters sally— Linger towards another day, far and far away—far away.

As you follow where you find them, up along the high Plateau, In the hollows left behind them Spanish chapels fade below— Shaded court and low corrals. In the vale the goat-herd browses. Hollyhocks are seneschals by the little buff-walled houses. Over grassy swale and alley have you ever seen it so— Up the Santa Clara Valley, riding on the Great Plateau? Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, Where the trenchèd waters’ ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, Shining backwards, singing downwards towards horizons blue and bay. All the haunts the bluffs ensconce so breathe of visions far away, As you ride near Ildefonso back again to Santa Fé. Pecos, mellow with the years, tall-walled Taos—who can know Half the storied faiths and fears haunting green New Mexico? Only from her open places down arroyos blue and bay,

One wild grace of many graces dallies towards another day. Where her yellow tufa crumbles, something stars and grasses know, Something true, that crowns and humbles, shimmers from the Great Plateau: Blows where cool-paced waters dally from the stillness of Puyé, Down the Santa Clara Valley through the world from far away— Far and far away—far away.

SUMMER HAIL

Once the heavens’ gabled door
Opened: down a stabled floor,
Down the thunders, something galloped far and wide,
Glancing far and fleet
Down the silver street—
And I knew of nothing, nothing else beside.
_Pitty patty polt—
Shoe the wild colt!
Here a nail! There a nail!
Pitty patty polt!_

Good and badness, die away.
Strength and swiftness down the day,
Dapple happy down my glancing silver street!
Oh, the touch of summer cold!—
Beauty swinging quick and bold,
Dipping, dappling where the distant roof-tops meet!
_Pitty patty polt—
Shoe the wild colt!_

Listen, dusty care:
Through a magic air,
Once I watched the way of perfect splendor ride,
Swishing far and gray,
Buoyant and gay—
And I knew of nothing, nothing else beside.
Good and badness, go your ways,
Vanish far and fleet.
Strength and swiftness run my days,
Down my silver street.
Little care, forevermore
Be you lesser than before.
Mighty frozen rain,
Come! oh, come again!
Let the heavens’ door be rended
With the touch of summer cold—
Dappling hoof-beats clatter splendid,
Infinitely gay and bold!
_Pitty patty polt—
Shoe the wild colt!
Here a nail and there a nail!
Pitty patty polt!_

Once the heavens’ gabled door
Opened: down the stabled floor,
Down the thunders something galloped wide and far;
Something dappled far and fleet,
Glancing down my silver street,
And I saw the ways of life just as they are.
_Pitty patty polt—
Shoe the wild colt!
Here a nail! There a nail!
Pitty patty polt!_

TO F. W.

You are my companion
Down the silver road,
Still and many-changing,
Infinitely changing.
You are my companion.
Something sings in lives—
Days of walking on and on,
Deep beyond all singing,
Wonderful past singing.

Wonderful our road,
Long and many-changing,
Infinitely changing.
This, more wonderful—
We are here together,
You and I together,
I am your companion;
You are my companion,
My own, true companion.

Let the road-side fade:
Morning on the mountain-top,
Hours along the valley,
Days of walking on and on,
Pulse away in silence,
In eternal silence.
Let the world all fade,
Break and pass away.
Yet will this remain,
Deep beyond all singing,
My own true companion,
Beautiful past singing:
We were here together—
On this earth together;
I was your companion,
You were my companion,
My own true companion.

A CITY AFTERNOON

Green afternoon serene and bright, along my street you sail away Sun-dappled like a ship of light that glints upon a rippled bay. Afar, freight-engines call and toll; the sprays flash on the fragrant grass; The children and the nurses stroll; the charging motors plunge and pass. Invisibly the shadows grow, empurpling in a rising tide The walks where light-gowned women go, white curb, gray asphalt iris-dyed. A jolting trolley shrills afar; nasturtiums blow, and ivy vines; Wet scents of turf and black-smoothed tar float down the rooftrees’ vergent lines. Where will you go, my afternoon, that glints so still and swift away, Blue-shaded like a ship of light bound outward from a wimpled bay? Oh—thrilling, pulsing, dark and bright, shall you, your work, your pain, your mirth, Fly into the immortal night and silence of our mother earth? She bore all Eden’s green and dew, and Persia’s scented wine and rose, And, flowering white against the blue, acanthus leaf and marbled pose. And deep the Maenad’s choric dance, Crusader’s cross, and heathen crest Lie sunk with rose and song and lance all veiled and vanished in her breast.

And all those afternoons once danced and sparkled in the sapphire light And iris shade as you have glanced, green afternoon, in vibrant flight.

As, down dim vistas, echoing, dead afternoons entreat our days, What breath of beauty will you sing to souls unseen and unknown ways? How close and how unanswering, green afternoon, you pulse away, So little and so great a thing—deep towards the bourne of every day.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

The editors desire to express their thanks to the poets represented in this anthology; also to the publishers of books marked with an asterisk (*), and to the editors and publishers of magazines listed below, for their very kind permission to use the poems here reprinted.

The endeavor has been to list below all the books of verse, or books about poetry, thus far printed by the poets quoted in this anthology: and then to refer the reader to magazines which first published the quoted poems, and to some of the anthologies which have included them. It has been impossible, however, to note in every case the magazine in which a poem was first printed, the records not being included in the volumes from which they are taken; but we have tried to credit especially certain periodicals which make a specialty of this subject.

A recent revision of the bibliography, for the ninth edition, enables the editors to include all titles of books published up to Oct. 1st, 1919.

CONRAD AIKEN

Earth Triumphant Macmillan Co., New York: 1914

* Turns and Movies Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston: 1916

The Jig of Forslin Four Seas Co., Boston: 1916

Nocturne of Remembered Spring Four Seas Co.: 1917

The Charnel Rose: Senlin, a Four Seas Co.: 1918
Biography

In _Poetry_: Sept., 1915 (Vol. VI).

ZOË AKINS

* Interpretations Grant Richards, London: 1912

* Interpretations Mitchell Kennerley, New York: 1914

In _Poetry_: Jan., 1915 (Vol. V).

RICHARD ALDINGTON

* Images, Old and New Poetry Bookshop, London: 1915

* Images, Old and New Four Seas Co., Boston: 1916

Reverie (ed. of 50) Clerk’s Press, Cleveland: 1917

War and Love Four Seas Co.: 1919

Images of War Beaumont Press, London: 1919

In _Poetry_: Jan., 1914 (Vol. III); Oct., 1915 (Vol. VII); Oct., 1912
(Vol. I).
In _Some Imagist Poets_: I-II Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1915, 1916

In _Des Imagistes_ Albert & Chas. Boni, New York: 1914

MARY ALDIS

* Flashlights Duffield & Co., New York: 1916

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N.Y.: 1916
Verse_

WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG

Poems Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston: 1914

* Idols Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1916

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

WILTON AGNEW BARRETT

In _Poetry_: Oct., 1915 (Vol. VII).

JOSEPH WARREN BEACH

Sonnets of the Head and Heart Richard G. Badger, Boston: 1903

In _Poetry_: May, 1915 (Vol. VI).

WILLIAM ROSE BENÉT

Merchants from Cathay Century Co., New York: 1913

* The Falconer of God Yale Univ. Press, New Haven, Conn.:
1914

The Great White Wall Yale Univ. Press: 1916

The Burglar of the Zodiac Yale Univ. Press: 1918

In _Poetry_: June, 1914 (Vol. IV);
April, 1916 (Vol. VIII).

MAXWELL BODENHEIM

Minna and Myself Pagan Pub. Co., New York: 1918

In _Poetry_: Aug., 1914 (Vol. IV).

In _Others_: Sept., 1915 (Vol. I).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

In _Catholic Anthology_ Elkin Mathews, London: 1915

GORDON BOTTOMLEY

* Chambers of Imagery: Series I-II Elkin Mathews, London: 1912

Laodice and Danaë Four Seas Co., Boston: 1916

In _Georgian Poetry_: I-II Poetry Bookshop, London: 1912, 1915

ROLLO BRITTEN

In _Poetry_: June, 1913 (Vol.
III).

RUPERT BROOKE

* The Collected Poems of Rupert John Lane Co., London and N. Y.:
Brooke 1915

Selected Poems Sidgwick & Jackson, London: 1917

Rupert Brooke, a Memoir, by Edward John Lane Co.: 1918
Marsh

In _Poetry_: Oct., 1914 (Vol. V);
April, 1915 (Vol. VI).

In _New Numbers_ Privately printed, London:
1914–1915

In _Georgian Poetry_: I-II Poetry Bookshop, London: 1912, 1915

WITTER BYNNER

An Ode to Harvard and Other Poems Small, Maynard & Co.: 1907

Tiger Mitchell Kennerley, New York: 1913

The Little King Mitchell Kennerley: 1914

* The New World Mitchell Kennerley: 1915

Iphigenia in Tauris Mitchell Kennerley: 1916

Grenstone Poems Fred. A. Stokes Co.: 1917

A Canticle of Praise (Ltd. ed.) Privately printed by John Henry
Nash, San Francisco: 1919

The Beloved Stranger Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1919

In _Poetry_: April, 1914 (Vol.
IV); Feb., 1913 (Vol. I).

JOSEPH CAMPBELL (Seosamh MacCathmhaoil)

The Garden of the Bees Erskine Mayne, Belfast: 1905

The Rushlight Maunsel & Co., Ltd., Dublin: 1906

The Gilly of Christ Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1907

The Man-Child Loch Press, London: 1907

The Mountainy Singer Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1909

Mearing Stones Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1911

Judgment: a Play Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1912

*Irishy Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1913

Earth of Cualann Maunsel & Co., Ltd.: 1917

The Mountainy Singer Four Seas Co., Boston: 1919

In _Poetry_: March, 1916 (Vol.
VII).

NANCY CAMPBELL

The Little People Arthur Humphreys, London: 1910

Agnus Dei Maunsel & Co., Ltd., Dublin: 1912

In _Poetry_: Aug., 1915 (Vol. VI).

SKIPWITH CANNÉLL

In _Poetry_: Sept., 1914 (Vol. IV).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

WILLA SIBERT CATHER

April Twilights Richard G. Badger, Boston: 1903

In _McClure’s Magazine_: June, 1909 (Vol. XXXIII); June, 1912 (Vol.
XXXIX).

PADRAIC COLUM

* Wild Earth Maunsel & Co., Ltd., Dublin: 1910
(_cir._)

* Wild Earth and Other Poems Henry Holt & Co., New York: 1916

In _Poetry_: July, 1915 (Vol. VI);
March, 1914 (Vol. III).

In _Others_: Dec., 1915 (Vol. I).

GRACE HAZARD CONKLING

* Afternoons of April Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston: 1915

In _Poetry_: Nov., 1915 (Vol. VII).

ALICE CORBIN (Mrs. Wm. P. Henderson)

* The Spinning Woman of the Sky Ralph Fletcher Seymour, Chicago:
1912

In _Poetry_: Dec., 1914 (Vol. V); Jan., 1916 (Vol. VII); Dec., 1912
(Vol. I).
In _Catholic Anthology_ Elkin Mathews, London: 1915

ADELAIDE CRAPSEY

* Verse The Manas Press, Rochester, N. Y.:
1915

A Study in English Metrics Alf. A. Knopf, New York: 1918

In _Others_: March, 1916 (Vol. II).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

H. D. (Mrs. Richard Aldington)

* Sea-garden: Imagist Poems Constable & Co., Ltd., London;
Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston: 1916

In _Poetry_: Jan., 1913 (Vol. I);
March, 1915 (Vol. V).

In _Des Imagistes_ Albert & Chas. Boni, New York: 1914

In _Some Imagist Poets_: I-II Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1915, 1916

MARY CAROLYN DAVIES

Songs Univ. of Cal. Press, Berkeley,
Cal.: 1914 (_cir._)

The Drums in our Street Macmillan Co.: 1918

The Slave with Two Faces (a play) Egmont Arens, New York: 1918

A Little Freckled Person (child Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1919
verse)

Youth Riding Macmillan Co.: 1919

In _Others_: July, 1915 (Vol. II).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

FANNIE STEARNS DAVIS (Mrs. Augustus McK. Gifford)

Myself and I Macmillan Co., New York: 1914

Crack O’Dawn Macmillan Co.: 1915

In _Poetry_: March, 1913 (Vol. I).

In _Atlantic Monthly_: Jan., 1913
(Vol. CXI).

WALTER DE LA MARE

Songs of Childhood Longmans, Green & Co., London:
1902, 1916

Poems John Murray, London: 1906

A Child’s Day Constable & Co., Ltd., London: 1912

Peacock Pie Constable & Co., Ltd.: 1913

* The Listeners Constable & Co., Ltd.: 1912

* The Listeners Henry Holt & Co., New York: 1915

The Sunken Garden and Other Poems Beaumont Press, London: 1917
(Ltd. ed.)

Peacock Pie Henry Holt & Co.: 1917

Motley and Other Poems Henry Holt & Co.: 1918

In _Georgian Poetry_: I-II Poetry Bookshop, London: 1912, 1915

LEE WILSON DODD

A Modern Alchemist Richard G. Badger, Boston: 1906

* The Middle Miles Yale Univ. Press, New Haven, Conn.:
1915

In _Poetry_: Jan., 1915 (Vol. V).

JOHN DRINKWATER

Cophetua David Nutt, London: 1912

Rebellion David Nutt: 1914

* Swords and Ploughshares Sidgwick & Jackson, London: 1915

Olton Pools Sidgwick & Jackson: 1916

Poems: 1908–1914 Sidgwick & Jackson: 1917

Pawns: Three Poetic Plays Sidgwick & Jackson: 1917

Tides Sidgwick & Jackson: 1917

Loyalties Sidgwick & Jackson: 1919

In _Poetry_: Dec., 1915 (Vol. VII).

In _Georgian Poetry_: I-II Poetry Bookshop, London: 1912, 1915

LOUISE DRISCOLL

In _Poetry_: Nov., 1914 (Vol. V).

DOROTHY DUDLEY (Mrs. Henry B. Harvey)

In _Poetry_: June, 1915 (Vol. VI).

HELEN DUDLEY

In _Poetry_: Oct., 1912 (Vol. I),
Aug., 1914 (Vol. IV).

MAX EASTMAN

* Child of the Amazons and Other Mitchell Kennerley: 1913
Poems

Colors of Life Alf. A. Knopf, New York: 1918

The Enjoyment of Poetry Chas. Scribner’s Sons, New York:
1913

T. S. ELIOT

Prufrock and Other Observations The Egoist, Ltd., London: 1917

Ezra Pound, his Metric and Poetry Alf. A. Knopf, New York: 1917

In _Others_: Sept., 1915 (Vol. I).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

In _Catholic Anthology_ Elkin Mathews, London: 1915

ARTHUR DAVISON FICKE

From the Isles Samurai Press, Cranleigh and
London: 1907

The Happy Princess and Other Poems Small, Maynard & Co.: 1907

The Earth Passion Samurai Press: 1908

The Breaking of Bonds Mitchell Kennerley, New York: 1910

Twelve Japanese Painters Ralph Fletcher Seymour Co.,
Chicago: 1913

Mr. Faust Mitchell Kennerley: 1913

* Sonnets of a Portrait Painter Mitchell Kennerley: 1914

* The Man on the Hilltop Mitchell Kennerley: 1915

An April Elegy Mitchell Kennerley: 1917

In _Poetry_: March, 1915 (Vol. V);
Feb., 1913 (Vol. I).

In _The Forum_: Aug., 1914 (Vol.
LII).

JOHN GOULD FLETCHER

Fire and Wine Grant Richards, London: 1913

Fool’s Gold Max Goschen, Ltd., London: 1913

The Dominant City Max Goschen, Ltd.: 1913

The Book of Nature Constable & Co., Ltd., London: 1913

Visions of the Evening Erskine McDonald, London: 1913

* Irradiations Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston: 1916

* Goblins and Pagodas Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1916

The Tree of Life Chatto & Windus, London: 1918

Japanese Prints Four Seas Co., Boston: 1918

In _Poetry_: Dec., 1913 (Vol. III);
March, 1916 (Vol. VI); Sept.,
1914 (Vol. IV).

In _Some Imagist Poets_: I-II Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1915, 1916

F. S. FLINT

In the Net of the Stars Elkin Mathews, London: 1909

* Cadences Poetry Bookshop, London: 1915

The Mosella of Decimus Magnus The Egoist, London: 1916
Ansonius

Philip II (translated from the Constable & Co., Ltd., London: 1916
French of Emile Verhaeren)

The Love Poems of Emile Verhaeren Constable & Co., Ltd.: 1916
(Translated from French)

The Closed Door (from French of John Lane Co., London & New York:
Jean de Bosschère) 1917

In _Poetry_: July, 1913 (Vol. II).

In _Des Imagistes_ Albert & Chas. Boni, New York: 1914

In _Some Imagist Poets_: I-II Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1915, 1916

MOIREEN FOX (Mrs. a Cheavasa)

Liadain and Curithir B. H. Blackwell, Oxford, Eng.: 1917

Midyir and Etain Candle Press, Dublin: 1918

In _Poetry_: March, 1915 (Vol. V).

FLORENCE KIPER FRANK

Cinderelline Dramatic Publ. Co., Chicago: 1913

* The Jew to Jesus and Other Poems Mitchell Kennerley: 1915

In _Poetry_: Nov., 1914 (Vol. V).

ROBERT FROST

* A Boy’s Will David Nutt, London: 1913

* A Boy’s Will Henry Holt & Co., New York: 1915

* North of Boston David Nutt, London: 1914

* North of Boston Henry Holt & Co., New York: 1915

Mountain Interval Henry Holt & Co.: 1916

In _Poetry_: Feb., 1914 (Vol. III).

HAMLIN GARLAND

Prairie Songs Stone & Kimball, Chicago: 1893

In _Poetry_: Nov. 1913 (Vol. III).

WILFRID WILSON GIBSON

The Golden Helm Elkin Mathews, London: 1903

The Nets of Love Elkin Mathews, London: 1905

On the Threshold Samurai Press, Cranleigh & London:
1907

The Stonefolds Samurai Press: 1907

The Web of Life Samurai Press: 1908

Fires I-II Elkin Mathews, London: 1912

Daily Bread Elkin Mathews, London: 1913

Womenkind Adams & Black, London: 1913

Womenkind Macmillan Co., New York: 1912

* Borderlands Elkin Mathews, London: 1914

* Thoroughfares Elkin Mathews, London: 1914

* Borderlands and Thoroughfares Macmillan Co., New York: 1914

* Battle and Other Poems Elkin Mathews, London; Macmillan
Co., New York: 1916

Daily Bread Macmillan Co., New York: 1916

Fires Macmillan Co., New York: 1916

Livelihood Macmillan Co., N. Y. & London: 1917

Collected Works Macmillan Co., N. Y. & London: 1917

Hill Tracks Macmillan Co., N. Y. & London: 1918

In _Poetry_: March, 1916 (Vol.
III); June, 1914 (Vol. IV); Aug.,
1915 (Vol. VI).

In _Georgian Poetry_: I-II Poetry Bookshop, London: 1912, 1915

RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER

Beggar and King Yale Univ. Press, New Haven, Conn.:
1917

In _Poetry_: July, 1914 (Vol. IV).

DOUGLAS GOLDRING

A Country Boy Adelphi Press, London: 1910

Streets Max Goschen, London: 1912

In the Town Selwyn & Blount, London: 1916

*On the Road Selwyn & Blount, London: 1916

In _Poetry_: May, 1915 (Vol. VI).

HERMANN HAGEDORN

The Silver Blade Alfred Unger, Berlin: 1907

The Woman of Corinth (out of print) Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1908

A Troop of the Guard and Other Houghton Mifflin Co.: 1909
Poems (out of print)

* Poems and Ballads Macmillan Co., New York: 1909

The Great Maze and The Heart of Macmillan Co.: 1916
Youth

Hymn of Free Peoples Triumphant Macmillan Co.: 1918

In _Poetry_: Sept., 1915 (Vol. VI).

THOMAS HARDY

Wessex Poems, and Other Verses Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London

Wessex Poems, and Other Verses Harper & Bros., N. Y.: 1899

Poems of the Past and the Present Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London

Poems of the Past and the Present Harper & Bros., N. Y.: 1901

The Dynasts: a Drama in Three Parts Macmillan & Co.: 1904

The Dynasts: a Drama in Three Parts Macmillan Co., N. Y.: 1904

* Time’s Laughing-stocks Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London: 1909

* Satires of Circumstance Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London: 1914

Selected Poems Macmillan & Co., Ltd., London: 1916

Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous Macmillan & Co., Ltd. 1917
Verse

RALPH HODGSON

* Eve Flying Fame, London: 1913

The Bull Flying Fame: 1913

* The Mystery Flying Fame: 1913

The Song of Honour (out of print) Flying Fame: 1913

Seven Broadsides (Decorated by Flying Fame: 1913
Lovat Fraser)

All the above re-issued by the Poetry Bookshop, London: 1914
Poems Macmillan Co., New York: 1917

The Last Blackbird and Other Lines George Allen & Unwin, Ltd., London;
Macmillan Co., New York: 1917

In _Georgian Poetry_: 1913–1915 Poetry Bookshop, London: 1915

HORACE HOLLEY

The Inner Garden Sherman French & Co., Boston: 1913

The Stricken King Shakespeare Head Press,
Stafford-on-Avon: 1913

Divinations and Creation Mitchell Kennerley, New York: 1916

In _Poetry_: May, 1915 (Vol. VI).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

HELEN HOYT

In _Poetry_: Aug., 1913 (Vol. II);
Aug., 1915 (Vol. VI).

In _Masses_: Dec., 1915 (Vol.
VIII).

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Verse_ Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.:
1916

FORD MADOX HUEFFER

Collected Poems Max Goschen, London: 1914

* Antwerp Poetry Bookshop, London: 1915

On Heaven and Poems Written on John Lane Co., London & New York:
Active Service 1918

SCHARMEL IRIS

* Lyrics of a Lad Seymour Daughaday & Co., Chicago:
1914

In _Poetry_: Dec., 1914 (Vol. V).

ORRICK JOHNS

Asphalt and Other Poems Alf. A. Knopf, New York: 1917

In _Poetry_: Feb., 1914 (Vol. III).

In _Catholic Anthology_ Elkin Mathews: 1915

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

JOYCE KILMER

Summer of Love Doubleday Page & Co.: 1911

* Trees and Other Poems George H. Doran Co., New York: 1914

Main Street and Other Poems George H. Doran Co.: 1917

Joyce Kilmer: Poems, Essays and George H. Doran Co.: 1918
Letters; with a Memoir by Robert
Coates Holliday

In _Poetry_: Aug., 1913 (Vol. II);
April, 1914 (Vol. IV).

ALFRED KREYMBORG

* Mushrooms John Marshall Co., Ltd., New York:
1916

Plays for Poem-mimes The Other Press, New York: 1918

In _Poetry_: Feb., 1916 (Vol. VII).

In _Catholic Anthology_ Elkin Mathews, London: 1915

In _Others: An Anthology of the New Alf. A. Knopf, N. Y.: 1916
Verse_

WILLIAM LAIRD

In _Poetry_: Sept., 1914 (Vol. IV);
July, 1913 (Vol. II).