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.
Comments about Avis by Adelaide Crapsey
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You