poem index

poet

Adelaide Crapsey

by this poet

poem
Every day, 
Every day, 
Tell the hours 
By their shadows, 
By their shadows.
poem
Listen. . .
With faint dry sound, 
Like steps of passing ghosts, 
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees 
And fall.
poem
Written in a Moment of Exasperation

How can you lie so still? All day I watch 
And never a blade of all the green sod moves 
To show where restlessly you toss and turn, 
And fling a desperate arm or draw up knees 
Stiffened and aching from their long disuse; 
I watch all night and not one ghost comes