From The Topeka State Journal, November 4, 1914. By Harriet Monroe.
Your love is like a blue, blue wave
The little rainbows play in.
Your love is like a mountain cave
Cool shadows darkly stay in.
It thrills me like great gales at war,
It soothes like softest singing.
It bears me, where clear rivers are
With reeds and rushes swinging;
Or out to pearly shores afar
Where temple bells are ringing.