Adelaide Crapsey Poems

If illness' end be health regained then I
Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I die.
...

Have you seen Angelique,
What way she went?
A white robe she wore;
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As it
Were tissue of silver
I'll wear, O Fate, thy grey,
And go mistily radiant, clad
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Than spring's new scents
The winter's earliest wind
...

Scarlet the poppies
Blue the corn-flowers,
Golden the wheat.
...

Reap, reap the grain and gather
The sweet grapes from the vine;
Our Lord's mother is weeping,
She hath nor bread nor wine;
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'Let me be young,' the Latmian shepherd prayed,
'And let me have on night-time hills long sleep;'
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Avis, the fair, at dawn
Rose lightly from her bed,
Herself arrayed,
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Behold her,
Running through the waves
Eager to reach the land;
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Look up . . .
From bleakening hills
...