| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922. |
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| Song |
| | | Margaret Steele Anderson |
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| THE BRIDE, she wears a white, white rose—the plucking it was mine; | |
| The poet wears a laurel wreath—and I the laurel twine; | |
| And oh, the child, your little child, that’s clinging close to you, | |
| It laughs to wear my violets—they are so sweet and blue! | |
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| And I, I have a wreath to wear—ah, never rue nor thorn! | 5 |
| I sometimes think that bitter wreath could be more sweetly worn! | |
| For mine is made of ghostly bloom, of what I can’t forget— | |
| The fallen leaves of other crowns—rose, laurel, violet! | |
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