The Proud Poet - Poem by Adelaide Crapsey
Great Kings were dust and all their deeds forgot
Did my harp's taut and burnished strings stand mute;
The fragrance of dead ladies' lovely names
Blew never down but for my lute.
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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