Avis - Poem by Adelaide Crapsey
Avis, the fair, at dawn
Rose lightly from her bed,
Avis, the fait, the maid,
In vestiment of lawn;
Across the fields she sped,
Five flowerets there she found,
In fragrant garland wound,
Avis, the fair, ar dawn,
Five roses red.
Go thou from thence of thy pity!
Thou lov'st not me.
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