Lo, All The Way Adelaide Crapsey Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will break, the sky Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the field, So sodden and dead, Will shimmer with new green and starry bloom, And there...
John-A-Dreams Adelaide Crapsey A laggard in the rear of time’s swift feet, And one who loiters on an aimless way Through lands he knows not; lured by birds to stray In secret paths where silence holds the beat And rust ascending wings. Roads meet; He...
John Keats Adelaide Crapsey Meet thou the event And terrible happening of Thine end: for thou are come Upon the remote, cold place Of ultimate dissolution and With dumb, wide look Thou, impotent, dost feel Impotence creeping on Thy potent soul. Yea, now, caught in...
Incantation Adelaide Crapsey O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curtseying, and then wish.) In rose-pale, fading blue of twilight sky, See, the new moon’s thin crescent shining clear; Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring mystic words, – And wish good...
Hypnos, God Of Sleep Adelaide Crapsey The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night Young husbandman of dreams, Garners his gracious blooms By far and moonlit streams.
Harvester’s Song Adelaide Crapsey 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.
Fresher Adelaide Crapsey Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first faint breath Of Snow. Why have I thought the dew Ephemeral when I Shall rest so short a time, myself, On earth?
Endymion Adelaide Crapsey ‘Let me be young,’ the Latmian shepherd prayed, ‘And let me have on night-time hills long sleep;’ Whom she of Cynthus saw, Heaven’s crowne`d maid, And gave his youth and dreams her love to keep. What news comrade upon the mountain top...
Doom Adelaide Crapsey 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...
Dirge Adelaide Crapsey Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still Tap at thy window-sill, Though ever love call and call Thou wilt not hear at all, My dear, my dear.
