Shadows

Harriet Monroe 1860 – 1936

What is most near?

Ah, sweet dead year-

Thy fallen leaf

And gathered sheaf,

The presence that is fled,

The vows that once were said-

These are most near.

Swift speeds away

Rose-crowned To-day.

So far, so far

Her light feet are!

I look and see thy face

Haunting the upland place,

Dear Yesterday.

The blooming flowers,

The sunny hours-

These cannot rest,

These are half blest.

But thou forevermore

Art mine, love, as of yore,

And time is ours.

Mentioned in this episode:

One Poem Only submissions are open.

This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us after we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, a book, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.

One Poem Only Submissions Form