 | The Complete Poems and Collected Letters of Adelaide Crapsey |  |
135
UNDERGRADUATE POEMS
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Loneliness.
The earth's all wrapped in gray shroud-mist,Dull gray are sea and sky,
And where the water laps the land
On gray sand-dunes stand I.
Oh, if God there be, his face from me
The rolling gray mists hide;
And if God there be, his voice from me
Is kept by the moan of the tide.
Time Flies.
Yesterday in the garden-close
Budded and blossomed and blew a rose,
Faded and fallen its petals gay;
The rose lies dead in the garden to-day.
But, sweet, I pray you do not sorrow,
As fair a rose will bloom to-morrow.
Budded and blossomed and blew a rose,
Faded and fallen its petals gay;
The rose lies dead in the garden to-day.
But, sweet, I pray you do not sorrow,
As fair a rose will bloom to-morrow.
Yesterday, dearest, you and I,
Swore that our love would never die.
Our vows were frail as all vows be.
To-day love's fled from you and me.
But, sweet, I pray you do not sorrow,
New love will come to us to-morrow.
Swore that our love would never die.
Our vows were frail as all vows be.
To-day love's fled from you and me.
But, sweet, I pray you do not sorrow,
New love will come to us to-morrow.
Thus the hours swiftly by us go;
Well, I e'en wist it must be so.
Do not weep now for what is past,
Love and roses will never last.
Then gaily speed past what is over,
And gladly greet new rose and lover.
Well, I e'en wist it must be so.
Do not weep now for what is past,
Love and roses will never last.
Then gaily speed past what is over,
And gladly greet new rose and lover.
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The Heart of a Maid.
“Petals of the marguerite,
Tell me, pray,
Doth he love me?—Answer
‘Yea’ or ‘nay.’”
Tell me, pray,
Doth he love me?—Answer
‘Yea’ or ‘nay.’”
“Loveth?” laughs she gaily,
“Let him sigh!
For all the love he offers,
What care I?”
“Let him sigh!
For all the love he offers,
What care I?”
“Petals of the marguerite,
Tell me, pray,
Doth he love me?—Answer
‘Yea’ or ‘nay.’”
Tell me, pray,
Doth he love me?—Answer
‘Yea’ or ‘nay.’”
“Loves not?” weeps she sorely,
“Let me die!
For life without his love,
What care I?”
“Let me die!
For life without his love,
What care I?”
Repentance.
(From the old French.)
In very truth, I've been a sinnerAnd spent my life in foolish manner;
Too much I've used my youthful days
In lightsome, vain and sinful ways.
Aye, oft I've visited the court,
Made love to ladies—idle sport!
To them I've written triolets,
Rondeaux, sonnets and chansonettes.
With naughty lords I've often dined,
Gamed, fought and all too often wined.
Aye, much I've walked in paths of evil;
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But now, alack! gay youth is spent;
I'm getting old—I'd best repent!
Hail Mary!
In loveliness and purity,In faith and grace and piety,
In love and in humility,
God give me grace to be like thee,
That in my poor and low degree
I, like thyself, may blessed be.
Hail, Mary!
| The Complete Poems and Collected Letters of Adelaide Crapsey | |