Adelaide Crapsey Quotes

The old
Old winds that blew
When chaos was, what do
They tell the clattered trees that I
Should weep?

Ere the horne'd owl hoot
Once and twice and thrice there shall
Go among the blind brown worms
News of thy great burial;
When the pomp is passed away,
'Here's a King,' the worms shall say.

Seen on a night in November
How frail
Above the bulk
Of crashing water hangs,
Autumn, evanescent, wan,
The moon.

My object to venture the suggestion that an important application of phonetics to metrical problems lies in the study of phonetic word-structure.

Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look
In the pages of my book;
And as these thy hand doth turn,
Know here is my funeral urn.

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!

With night's
Dim veil and blue
I will cover my eyes,
I will bind close my eyes that are
So weary.

Still as
On windless nights
The moon-cast shadows are,
So still will be my heart when I
Am dead.

And if the many sayings of the wise
Teach of submission I will not submit
But with a spirit all unreconciled
Flash an unquenched defiance to the stars.

I knowNot these my handsAnd yet I think there wasA woman like me once had handsLike these.

Reap, reap the grain and gather
The sweet grapes from the vine;
Our Lord's mother is weeping,
She hath nor bread nor wine;
She is weeping. The Queen of Heaven,
She hath nor bread nor wine.

In your
Curled petals what ghosts
Of blue headlands and seas,
What perfumed immortal breath sighing
Of Greece.

No guile?
Nay, but so strangely
He moves among us. Not this
Man but Barabbas! Release to us
Barabbas!

Why do
You thus devise
Evil against her?' 'For that
She is beautiful, delicate;
Therefore.

Scarlet the poppies
Blue the corn-flowers,
Golden the wheat.
Gold for the Eternal:
Blue for Our Lady:
Red for the five
Wounds of her Son.

As it
Were tissue of silver
I'll wear, O Fate, thy grey,
And go mistily radiant, clad
Like the moon.

Sea-foam
And coral! Oh, I'll
Climb the great pasture rocks
And dream me mermaid in the sun's
Gold flood.

Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk ... as strange, as still ...
A white moth flew ... Why am I grown
So cold?

Peter stands by the gate,
And Michael by the throne.
'Peter, I would pass the gate
And come before the throne.'
'Whose spirit prayed never at the gate
In life nor at the throne,
In death he may not pass the gate
To come before the throne:'
Peter said from the gate;
Said Michael from the throne.

Three grey women walk with me
Fate and Grief and Memory.
My fate brought grief; my grief must be
With me through Eternity,
Such thy power, memory.
Three grey women walk with me.

If it
Were lighter touch
Than petal of flower resting
On grass, oh still too heavy it were,
Too heavy!

Thou hast
Drawn laughter from
A well of secret tears
And thence so elvish it rings, -mocking
And sweet.

Little Sister Rose-Marie,
Will thy feet as willing-light
Run through Paradise, I wonder,
As they run the blue skies under,
Willing feet, so airy-light?
Little Sister Rose-Marie
Will thy voice as bird-note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given,
Swift bird-voice, so young and clear?
How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie!