Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Listen.
.
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Sun and wind and beat of sea,
Great lands stretching endlessly…
Where be bonds to bind the free?
All the world was made for me!
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
With swift
Great sweep of her
Magnificent arm my pain
Clanged back the doors that shut my soul
From life.
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Look up…
From bleakening hills
Blows down the light, first breath
Of wintry wind…look up, and scent
The snow!
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Still as
On windless nights
The moon-cast shadows are,
So still will be my heart when I
Am dead.
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Well and
If day on day
Follows, and weary year
On year…and ever days and years…
Well?
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
Keep thou
Thy tearless watch
All night but when blue-dawn
Breathes on the silver moon, then weep!
Then weep!
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
But me
They cannot touch,
Old Age and death…the strange
And ignominious end of old
Dead folk!
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
The cold
With steely clutch
Grips all the land…alack,
The little people in the hills
Will die!
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Written by
Adelaide Crapsey |
These be
Three silent things:
The falling snow…the hour
Before the dawn…the mouth of one
Just dead.
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