| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 246. Great City |
| | | By Harold Monro |
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| WHEN I returned at sunset, | |
| The serving-maid was singing softly | |
| Under the dark stairs, and in the house | |
| Twilight had entered like a moon-ray. | |
| Time was so dead I could not understand | 5 |
| The meaning of midday or of midnight, | |
| But like falling waters, falling, hissing, falling, | |
| Silence seemed an everlasting sound. | |
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| I sat in my room, | |
| And watched sunset, | 10 |
| And saw starlight. | |
| I heard the tramp of homing men, | |
| And the last call of the last child; | |
| Then a lone bird twittered, | |
| And suddenly, beyond the housetops, | 15 |
| I imagined dew in the country, | |
| In the hay, on the buttercups; | |
| The rising moon, | |
| The scent of early night, | |
| The songs, the echoes, | 20 |
| Dogs barking, | |
| Day closing, | |
| Gradual slumber, | |
| Sweet rest. | |
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| When all the lamps were lighted in the town | 25 |
| I passed into the street ways and I watched, | |
| Wakeful, almost happy, | |
| And half the night I wandered in the street. | |
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