 | The Complete Poems and Collected Letters of Adelaide Crapsey |  |
61
“VERSE”
Poems Selected and Arranged by Adelaide Crapsey
63
1. Part I
Birth-Moment
Behold her,
Running through the waves,
Eager to reach the land;
The water laps her,
Sun and wind are on her,
Healthy, brine-drenched and young,
Behold Desire new-born;—
Desire on first fulfillment's radiant edge,
Love at miraculous moment of emergence,
This is she,
Who running,
Hastens, hastens to the land.
Running through the waves,
Eager to reach the land;
The water laps her,
Sun and wind are on her,
Healthy, brine-drenched and young,
Behold Desire new-born;—
Desire on first fulfillment's radiant edge,
Love at miraculous moment of emergence,
This is she,
Who running,
Hastens, hastens to the land.
Look.. Look..
Her blown gold hair and lucent eyes of youth,
Her body rose and ivory in the sun..
Look,
How she hastens,
Running, running to the land.
Her blown gold hair and lucent eyes of youth,
Her body rose and ivory in the sun..
Look,
How she hastens,
Running, running to the land.
Her hands are yearning and her feet are swift
To reach and hold
She knows not what
Yet knows that it is life;
Need urges her,
Self, uncomprehended but most deep divined,
Unwilled but all-compelling, drives her on.
Life runs to life.
She who longs,
But hath not yet accepted or bestowed,
All virginal dear and bright,
Runs, runs to reach the land.
And she who runs shall be
Married to blue of summer skies at noon,
Companion to green fields,
Held bride of subtle fragrance and of all sweet sound,
Belovèd of the stars,
And wanton mistress to the veering winds.
To reach and hold
She knows not what
Yet knows that it is life;
Need urges her,
Self, uncomprehended but most deep divined,
Unwilled but all-compelling, drives her on.
Life runs to life.
She who longs,
But hath not yet accepted or bestowed,
All virginal dear and bright,
Runs, runs to reach the land.
64
Married to blue of summer skies at noon,
Companion to green fields,
Held bride of subtle fragrance and of all sweet sound,
Belovèd of the stars,
And wanton mistress to the veering winds.
Oh breathless space between:
Womb-time just passed,
Dark-hidden, chaotic-formative, unpersonal,
And individual life of fresh-created force
Not yet begun:
One moment more
Before desire shall meet desire
And new creation start.
Oh breathless space,
While she,
Just risen from the waves,
Runs, runs to reach the land.
Womb-time just passed,
Dark-hidden, chaotic-formative, unpersonal,
And individual life of fresh-created force
Not yet begun:
One moment more
Before desire shall meet desire
And new creation start.
Oh breathless space,
While she,
Just risen from the waves,
Runs, runs to reach the land.
(Ah, keenest personal moment
When mouth unkissed turns eager-slow and tremulous
Towards lover's mouth,
That tremulous and eager-slow
Droops down to it:
But breathless space of breath or two
Lies in between
Before the mouth upturned and mouth down-drooped
Shall meet and make the kiss.)
When mouth unkissed turns eager-slow and tremulous
Towards lover's mouth,
That tremulous and eager-slow
Droops down to it:
But breathless space of breath or two
Lies in between
Before the mouth upturned and mouth down-drooped
Shall meet and make the kiss.)
Look.. Look..
She runs..
Love fresh-emerged,
Desire new-born..
Blown on by wind,
And shone on by the sun,
She rises from the waves
And running,
Hastens, hastens to the land.
Belovèd and Belovèd and Belovèd,
Even so right
And beautiful and undenied
Is my desire;
Even so longing-swift
I run to your receiving arms.
She runs..
Love fresh-emerged,
Desire new-born..
Blown on by wind,
And shone on by the sun,
She rises from the waves
And running,
Hastens, hastens to the land.
65
Even so right
And beautiful and undenied
Is my desire;
Even so longing-swift
I run to your receiving arms.
O Aphrodite!
O Aphrodite, hear!
Hear my wrung cry flame upward poignant-glad...
This is my time for me.
I too am young;
I too am all of love!
O Aphrodite, hear!
Hear my wrung cry flame upward poignant-glad...
This is my time for me.
I too am young;
I too am all of love!
1905.
The Mother Exultant
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are translucent and ripe,
They are heavy and fragrant with juice,
They wait for the hands of the vintagers;
For a long time the grapes were not,
And were in the womb of the earth,
Then out of the heavens came the rain,
The sun sent down his warmth from the sky,
At the touch of life, life stirred,
And the earth brought forth her fruits in due season.
The grapes are translucent and ripe,
They are heavy and fragrant with juice,
They wait for the hands of the vintagers;
For a long time the grapes were not,
And were in the womb of the earth,
Then out of the heavens came the rain,
The sun sent down his warmth from the sky,
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And the earth brought forth her fruits in due season.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, there came to me a vision;
My heart cried out within me,
And the voice was the voice of God.
Yea, a virgin I dreamed of love,
And I was troubled and sore afraid,
I wept and was glad,
For the word of my heart named me blessèd,
My soul exalted the might of creation.
When, behold, there came to me a vision;
My heart cried out within me,
And the voice was the voice of God.
Yea, a virgin I dreamed of love,
And I was troubled and sore afraid,
I wept and was glad,
For the word of my heart named me blessèd,
My soul exalted the might of creation.
I was a maid and alone,
When, behold, my lover came to me,
My belovèd held me in his arms.
When, behold, my lover came to me,
My belovèd held me in his arms.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the vision fulfilled;
I have conceived,
I have carried in my womb,
I have brought forth
The life of the world;
Out of my joy and my pain,
Out of the fulness of my living
Hath my son gained his life.
Now is the vision fulfilled;
I have conceived,
I have carried in my womb,
I have brought forth
The life of the world;
Out of my joy and my pain,
Out of the fulness of my living
Hath my son gained his life.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes are ripe for the gathering;
The fresh, deep earth is in them,
And clean water from the clouds.
And golden, golden sun is in the heart of the grapes.
Look, little son, look:
The earth, your mother,
And the touch of life who is your father,
They have provided food for you
That you also may live.
The grapes are ripe for the gathering;
The fresh, deep earth is in them,
And clean water from the clouds.
And golden, golden sun is in the heart of the grapes.
Look, little son, look:
The earth, your mother,
And the touch of life who is your father,
They have provided food for you
That you also may live.
The vineyards are planted on the hillside,
They are the vineyards of my belovèd,
He chose a favorable spot,
His hands prepared the soil for the planting;
He set out the young vines
And cared for them till the time of their bearing.
Now is his labour fulfilled who worked with God.
The fruit of the vineyard is ripe,
The vintagers laugh in the sun,
They sing while they gather the grapes,
For the vintage is a good one,
The wine vats are pressed down and running over.
They are the vineyards of my belovèd,
67
His hands prepared the soil for the planting;
He set out the young vines
And cared for them till the time of their bearing.
Now is his labour fulfilled who worked with God.
The fruit of the vineyard is ripe,
The vintagers laugh in the sun,
They sing while they gather the grapes,
For the vintage is a good one,
The wine vats are pressed down and running over.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
Now is the wonder accomplished;
Out of the heart of the living grape
Hath the hand of my belovèd
Wrung the wine of the dream of life.
Now is the wonder accomplished;
Out of the heart of the living grape
Hath the hand of my belovèd
Wrung the wine of the dream of life.
Belovèd,
My little son's father,
Together we have given life,
And the vision of life;
Shall we not rejoice
Who have made eternal
The days of our living.
My little son's father,
Together we have given life,
And the vision of life;
Shall we not rejoice
Who have made eternal
The days of our living.
Look, little son, look:
The grapes glow with rich juice;
The juice of the grape hath in it
The substance of the earth,
And the air's breath;
It hath in it the soul of the vintage.
Put forth your hand, little son,
And take for yourself the life
That your father and your mother
Have provided for you.
The grapes glow with rich juice;
The juice of the grape hath in it
The substance of the earth,
And the air's breath;
It hath in it the soul of the vintage.
Put forth your hand, little son,
And take for yourself the life
That your father and your mother
Have provided for you.
Joy! Joy! Joy!
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
And my feet dance to the time of it;
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
The hills are glad,
The valleys re-echo with merriment,
In my heart is the sound of laughter,
68
Oh, little son, carried light on my shoulder,
Let us go laughing and dancing through the live days,
For this is the hour of the vintage,
When man gathereth for himself the fruits of the vineyard.
1905.
John Keats
(February 1820-February 1821)
Meet thou the event
And terrible happening of
Thine end: for thou art come
Upon the remote, cold place
Of ultimate dissolution and
With dumb, wide look
Thou, impotent, dost feel
Impotence creeping on
Thy potent soul. Yea, now, caught in
The aghast and voiceless pain
Of death, thyself doth watch
Thyself becoming naught.
And terrible happening of
Thine end: for thou art come
Upon the remote, cold place
Of ultimate dissolution and
With dumb, wide look
Thou, impotent, dost feel
Impotence creeping on
Thy potent soul. Yea, now, caught in
The aghast and voiceless pain
Of death, thyself doth watch
Thyself becoming naught.
Peace.. Peace.. for at
The last is comfort. Lo, now
Thou hast no pain. Lo, now
The waited presence is
Within the room; the voice
Speaks final-gentle: “Child,
Even thy careful nurse,
I lift thee in my arms
For greater ease and while
Thy heart still beats, place my
Cool fingers of oblivion on
Thine eyes and close them for
Eternity. Thou shalt
Pass sleeping, nor know
When sleeping ceases. Yet still
A little while thy breathing lasts,
Gradual is faint and fainter; I
Must listen close—the end.”
The last is comfort. Lo, now
Thou hast no pain. Lo, now
The waited presence is
Within the room; the voice
Speaks final-gentle: “Child,
Even thy careful nurse,
I lift thee in my arms
For greater ease and while
Thy heart still beats, place my
Cool fingers of oblivion on
Thine eyes and close them for
69
Pass sleeping, nor know
When sleeping ceases. Yet still
A little while thy breathing lasts,
Gradual is faint and fainter; I
Must listen close—the end.”
Rest. And you others.. All.
Grave-fellows in
Green place. Here grows
Memorial every spring's
Fresh grass and here
Your marking monument
Was built for you long, long
Ago when Caius Cestius died.
Grave-fellows in
Green place. Here grows
Memorial every spring's
Fresh grass and here
Your marking monument
Was built for you long, long
Ago when Caius Cestius died.
Rome 1909.
70
Cinquains 1911–1913
November Night
Listen..With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees
And fall.
Release
With swiftGreat sweep of her
Magnificent arm my pain
Clanged back the doors that shut my soul
From life.
Triad
These beThree silent things:
The falling snow.. the hour
Before the dawn.. the mouth of one
Just dead.
71
Snow
Look up...From bleakening hills
Blows down the light, first breath
Of wintry wind... look up, and scent
The snow!
Anguish
Keep thouThy tearless watch
All night but when blue dawn
Breathes on the silver moon, then weep!
Then weep!
Trapped
Well andIf day on day
Follows, and weary year
On year.. and ever days and years..
Well?
Moon-shadows
Still asOn windless nights
The moon-cast shadows are,
So still will be my heart when I
Am dead.
72
Susanna And The Elders
“Why doYou thus devise
Evil against her?” “For that
She is beautiful, delicate:
Therefore.”
Youth
But meThey cannot touch,
Old age and death.. the strange
And ignominious end of old
Dead folk!
Languor After Pain
Pain ebbs,And like cool balm,
An opiate weariness
Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed
Pale wrists.
73
The Guarded Wound
If itWere lighter touch
Than petal of flower resting
On grass oh still too heavy it were,
Too heavy!
Winter
The coldWith steely clutch
Grips all the land.. alack,
The little people in the hills
Will die!
Night Winds
The oldOld winds that blew
When chaos was, what do
They tell the clattered trees that I
Should weep?
74
Arbutus
Not spring'sThou art, but hers,
Most cool, most virginal,
Winter's, with thy faint breath, thy snows
Rose-tinged.
Roma Aeterna
The sunIs warm to-day,
O Romulus, and on
Thine olden Palatine the birds
Still sing.
[Not thou]
“He's killed the may and he's laid her by To bear the red rose company.”
Not thou,
White rose, but thy
Ensanguined sister is
The dear companion of my heart's
Shed blood.
75
Amaze
I knowNot these my hands
And yet I think there was
A woman like me once had hands
Like these.
Shadow
A-sway,On red rose,
A golden butterfly..
And on my heart a butterfly
Night-wing'd.
Fate Defied
As itWere tissue of silver
I'll wear, O Fate, thy grey,
And go mistily radiant, clad
Like the moon.
76
Madness
Burdock,Blue aconite,
And thistle and thorn.. of these,
Singing I wreathe my pretty wreath
O'death.
The Warning
Just now,Out of the strange
Still dusk.. as strange, as still..
A white moth flew. Why am I grown
So cold?
Saying of Il Haboul Guardian Of The Treasure Of Solomon And Keeper Of The Prophet's Armour
My tentA vapour that
The wind dispels and but
As dust before the wind am I
Myself.
77
The Death Of Holofernes
Israel!Wake! Be gay!
Thine enemy is brought low—
Thy foe slain—by the hand, by the hand
Of a woman!
Laurel In the Berkshires
Sea-foamAnd coral! Oh, I'll
Climb the great pasture rocks
And dream me mermaid in the sun's
Gold flood.
Niagara
Seen on a night in November
How frailAbove the bulk
Of crashing water hangs,
Autumnal, evanescent, wan,
The moon.
78
The Grand Canyon
By Zeus!Shout word of this
To the eldest dead! Titans,
Gods, Heroes, come who have once more
A home!
Now Barabbas Was A Robber
No guile?Nay, but so strangely
He moves among us.. Not this
Man but Barabbas! Release to us
Barabbas!
Refuge In Darkness
With night'sDim veil and blue
I will cover my eyes,
I will bind close my eyes that are
So weary.
79
2. Part II
To Walter Savage Landor
Ah, Walter, where you lived I rueThese days come all too late for me;
What matter if her eyes are blue
Whose rival is Persephone?
Fiesole, 1909.
The Pledge
White doves of Cytherea, by your questAcross the blue Heaven's bluest highest air,
And by your certain homing to Love's breast,
Still to be true and ever true—I swear.
Hypnos, God of Sleep
The shadowy boy of night
Crosses the dusking land;
He sows his poppy-seeds
With steady, gentle hand.
Crosses the dusking land;
He sows his poppy-seeds
With steady, gentle hand.
The shadowy boy of night
Young husbandman of dreams,
Garners his gracious blooms
By far and moonlit streams.
Young husbandman of dreams,
Garners his gracious blooms
By far and moonlit streams.
80
Expenses
Little my lacking fortunes showFor this to eat and that to wear;
Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go!
An obol pays the Stygian fare.
London, 1910
Adventure
Sun and wind and beat of sea,Great lands stretching endlessly...
Where be bonds to bind the free?
All the world was made for me!
On Seeing Weather-Beaten Trees
Is it as plainly in our living shown,By slant and twist, which way the wind hath blown?
Warning To The Mighty
Ere the hornèd owl hootOnce and twice and thrice there shall
Go among the blind brown worms
News of thy great burial;
When the pomp is passed away,
“Here's a King,” the worms shall say.
81
Oh, Lady, Let The Sad Tears Fall
Oh, Lady, let the sad tears fall
To speak thy pain,
Gently as through the silver dusk
The silver rain.
To speak thy pain,
Gently as through the silver dusk
The silver rain.
Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grief
In such soft sigh
As hath the wind in gardens where
Pale roses die.
In such soft sigh
As hath the wind in gardens where
Pale roses die.
Dirge
Never the nightingale,Oh, my dear,
Never again the lark
Thou wilt hear;
Though dusk and the morning still
Tap at thy window-sill,
Though ever love call and call
Thou wilt not hear at all,
My dear, my dear.
The Sun-Dial
Every day,Every day,
Tell the hours
By their shadows,
By their shadows.
82
The Entombment
In a cave born,(Mary said)
In a cave is
My Son burièd.
Autumn
Fugitive, wistful,Pausing at edge of her going,
Autumn, the maiden, turns,
Leans to the earth with ineffable
Gesture. Ah, more than
Spring's skies her skies shine
Tender and frailer
Bloom than plum-bloom or almond
Lies on her hillsides, her fields,
Misted, faint-flushing. Ah, lovelier
Is her refusal than
Yielding who pauses with grave
Backward smiling, with light
Unforgettable touch of
Fingers withdrawn... Pauses, lo
Vanishes.. fugitive, wistful...
Ah me.. Alas..
(He)
Ah me, my love's heart,Like some frail flower, apart,
High, on the cliff's edge growing,
Touched by unhindered sun to sweeter showing,
83
But so, on the cliff's edge growing,
From man's reach aloof, apart:
Ah me, my love's heart!
(She)
Alack, alas, my lover,As one who would discover
At world's end his path,
Nor knows at all what faëry way he hath
Who turneth dreaming into faith
And followeth that near path
His own heart dareth to discover:
Alack, alas, my lover!
Perfume of Youth
(Girl's Song)
In Babylon, in Nineveh,
And long ago, and far away,
The lilies and the lotus blew
That are my sweet of youth to-day.
And long ago, and far away,
The lilies and the lotus blew
That are my sweet of youth to-day.
From those high gardens of the Gods
That eyes of men may never see,
The amaranth and asphodel
Immortal odours shed on me.
That eyes of men may never see,
The amaranth and asphodel
Immortal odours shed on me.
In vial of my early years,
As in a crystal vial held,
What precious fragrance treasured up
Of age and agelessness distill'd.
As in a crystal vial held,
What precious fragrance treasured up
Of age and agelessness distill'd.
Thine but to give. Give straightway all.
Yea, straight, mine hands, the ointment rare
In great libation joyous pour!
Oh, look of youth... Oh, golden hair...
Yea, straight, mine hands, the ointment rare
84
Oh, look of youth... Oh, golden hair...
Rapunzel
All day, all day I brush
My golden strands of hair;
All day I wait and wait..
Ah, who is there?
My golden strands of hair;
All day I wait and wait..
Ah, who is there?
Who calls? Who calls? The gold
Ladder of my long hair
I loose and wait.. and wait..
Ah, who is there?
Ladder of my long hair
I loose and wait.. and wait..
Ah, who is there?
She left at dawn.. I am blind
In the tangle of my long hair..
Is it she? the witch? the witch?
Ah, who is there?
In the tangle of my long hair..
Is it she? the witch? the witch?
Ah, who is there?
Narcissus
“Boy, lying
Where the long grass
Edges the pool's brim,
What do you watch
There in the water? the blue
Colour of Heaven
Mirrored, repeated? the brown
Tree-trunks and branches
Waveringly imaged? These,
Boy, do you watch?”
Where the long grass
Edges the pool's brim,
What do you watch
There in the water? the blue
Colour of Heaven
Mirrored, repeated? the brown
Tree-trunks and branches
Waveringly imaged? These,
Boy, do you watch?”
85
“Nay but mine eyes;
Nay but the trouble
Deep in mine eyes.”
Nay but the trouble
Deep in mine eyes.”
Vendor's Song
My songs to sell, good sir!
I pray you buy.
Here's one will win a lady's tears,
Here's one will make her gay,
Here's one will charm your true love true
Forever and a day;
Good sir, I pray you buy!
I pray you buy.
Here's one will win a lady's tears,
Here's one will make her gay,
Here's one will charm your true love true
Forever and a day;
Good sir, I pray you buy!
Oh, no, he will not buy.
My songs to sell, sweet maid!
I pray you buy.
This one will teach you Lilith's lore,
And this what Helen knew,
And this will keep your gold hair gold,
And this your blue eyes blue;
Sweet maid, I pray you buy!
I pray you buy.
This one will teach you Lilith's lore,
And this what Helen knew,
And this will keep your gold hair gold,
And this your blue eyes blue;
Sweet maid, I pray you buy!
Oh, no, she will not buy.
If I'd as much money as I could tell,
I never would cry my songs to sell,
I never would cry my songs to sell.
I never would cry my songs to sell,
I never would cry my songs to sell.
86
AVIS
Avis, the fair, at dawn
Rose lightly from her bed,
Herself arrayed,
Avis, the fair, the maid,
In vestiment of lawn;
Across the fields she sped,
Five flowerets there she found,
In fragrant garland wound,
Avis, the fair, at dawn,
Five roses red.
Rose lightly from her bed,
Herself arrayed,
Avis, the fair, the maid,
In vestiment of lawn;
Across the fields she sped,
Five flowerets there she found,
In fragrant garland wound,
Avis, the fair, at dawn,
Five roses red.
Go thou from thence of thy pity!
Thou lov'st not me.
Thou lov'st not me.
Doom
Peter stands by the gate,And Michael by the throne.
“Peter, I would pass the gate
And come before the throne.”
“Whose spirit prayed never at the gate
In life nor at the throne,
In death he may not pass the gate
To come before the throne:”
Peter said from the gate;
Said Michael from the throne.
Grain Field
Scarlet the poppiesBlue the corn-flowers,
Golden the wheat.
87
Blue for Our Lady:
Red for the five
Wounds of her Son.
Song
I make my shroud but no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair,
With stitches set in even rows.
I make my shroud but no one knows.
So shimmering fine it is and fair,
With stitches set in even rows.
I make my shroud but no one knows.
In door-way where the lilac blows,
Humming a little wandering air,
I make my shroud and no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair.
Humming a little wandering air,
I make my shroud and no one knows,
So shimmering fine it is and fair.
Pierrot
For Aubrey Beardsley's picture “Pierrot is dying.”
Pierrot is dying;
Tiptoe in,
Finger touched to lip,
Harlequin,
Columbine and Clown.
Tiptoe in,
Finger touched to lip,
Harlequin,
Columbine and Clown.
Hush! how still he lies
In his bed,
White slipped hand and white
Sunken head.
Oh, poor Pierrot.
In his bed,
White slipped hand and white
Sunken head.
Oh, poor Pierrot.
88
There's his dressing-gown
Across the chair,
Slippers on the floor...
Can he hear
Us who tiptoe in?
Across the chair,
Slippers on the floor...
Can he hear
Us who tiptoe in?
Pillowed high he lies
In his bed;
Listen, Columbine.
“He is dead.”
Oh, poor Pierrot.
In his bed;
Listen, Columbine.
“He is dead.”
Oh, poor Pierrot.
The Monk In The Garden
He comes from Mass early in the morning
The sky's the very blue Madonna wears;The air's alive with gold! Mark you the way
The birds sing and the dusted shimmer of dew
On leaf and fruit?.. Per Bacco, what a day!
The Mourner
I have no heart for noon-tide and the sun,
But I will take me where more tender night
Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy darkness down,
And shelters me that I may weep in peace,
And feel no pitying eyes, and hear no voice
Attempt my grief in comfort's alien tongue.
But I will take me where more tender night
Shakes, fold on fold, her dewy darkness down,
And shelters me that I may weep in peace,
And feel no pitying eyes, and hear no voice
Attempt my grief in comfort's alien tongue.
Where cypresses, more black than night is black,
Border straight paths, or where, on hillside slopes,
The dim grey glimmer of the olive trees
Lies like a breath, a ghost, upon the dark,
There will I wander when the nightingale
Ceases, and even the veilèd stars withdraw
Their tremulous light, there find myself at rest,
A silence and a shadow in the gloom.
Border straight paths, or where, on hillside slopes,
The dim grey glimmer of the olive trees
Lies like a breath, a ghost, upon the dark,
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Ceases, and even the veilèd stars withdraw
Their tremulous light, there find myself at rest,
A silence and a shadow in the gloom.
But all the dead of all the world shall know
The pacing of my sable-sandall'd feet,
And know my tear-drenched veil along the grass,
And think them less forsaken in their graves,
Saying: There's one remembers, one still mourns;
For the forgotten dead are dead indeed.
The pacing of my sable-sandall'd feet,
And know my tear-drenched veil along the grass,
And think them less forsaken in their graves,
Saying: There's one remembers, one still mourns;
For the forgotten dead are dead indeed.
Night
I have minded me
Of the noon-day brightness,
And the crickets' drowsy
Singing in the sunshine.
Of the noon-day brightness,
And the crickets' drowsy
Singing in the sunshine.
I have minded me
Of the slim marsh-grasses
That the winds at twilight,
Dying, scarcely ripple..
Of the slim marsh-grasses
That the winds at twilight,
Dying, scarcely ripple..
And I cannot sleep.
I have minded me
Of a lily-pond,
Where the waters sway
All the moonlit leaves
And the curled long stems..
Of a lily-pond,
Where the waters sway
All the moonlit leaves
And the curled long stems..
And I cannot sleep.
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Harvesters' Song
Reap, reap the grain and gatherThe sweet grapes from the vine;
Our Lord's mother is weeping,
She hath nor bread nor wine;
She is weeping, The Queen of Heaven,
She hath nor bread nor wine.
ROSE-MARY OF THE ANGELS
Little Sister Rose-Marie,
Will thy feet as willing-light
Run through Paradise, I wonder,
As they run the blue skies under,
Willing feet, so airy-light?
Will thy feet as willing-light
Run through Paradise, I wonder,
As they run the blue skies under,
Willing feet, so airy-light?
Little Sister Rose-Marie,
Will thy voice as bird-note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given,
Swift bird-voice, so young and clear?
Will thy voice as bird-note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given,
Swift bird-voice, so young and clear?
How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie!
Little Sister Rose-Marie!
Angélique
Have you seen Angélique,
What way she went?
A white robe she wore;
A flickering light near spent
Her pale hand bore.
What way she went?
A white robe she wore;
A flickering light near spent
Her pale hand bore.
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Have you seen Angélique?
Will she know the place
Dead feet must find,
The grave-cloth on her face
To make her blind?
Will she know the place
Dead feet must find,
The grave-cloth on her face
To make her blind?
Have you seen Angélique..
At night I hear her moan,
And I shiver in my bed;
She wanders all alone,
She cannot find the dead.
At night I hear her moan,
And I shiver in my bed;
She wanders all alone,
She cannot find the dead.
Chimes
(1)
The rose new-opening saith,
And the dew of the morning saith,
(Fallen leaves and vanished dew)
Remember death.
And the dew of the morning saith,
(Fallen leaves and vanished dew)
Remember death.
Ding dong bell
Ding dong bell
Ding dong bell
(2)
May-moon thin and young
In the sky,
Ere you wax and wane
I shall die;
So my faltering breath,
So my tired heart saith,
That foretell me death.
In the sky,
Ere you wax and wane
I shall die;
So my faltering breath,
So my tired heart saith,
That foretell me death.
Ding-dong
Ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong bell
Ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong bell
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(3)
“Thy gold hair likes me well
And thy blue eyes,” he saith,
Who chooses where he will
And none may hinder—Death.
And thy blue eyes,” he saith,
Who chooses where he will
And none may hinder—Death.
At head and feet for candles
Roses burning red,
The valley lilies tolling
For the early dead:
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong bell
Roses burning red,
The valley lilies tolling
For the early dead:
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong
Ding-dong ding-dong bell
Ding dong bell
Mad-Song
Grey gaolers are my griefs
That will not let me free;
The bitterness of tears
Is warder unto me.
That will not let me free;
The bitterness of tears
Is warder unto me.
I may not leap or run;
I may nor laugh nor sing.
“Thy cell is small,” they say,
“Be still thou captived thing.”
I may nor laugh nor sing.
“Thy cell is small,” they say,
“Be still thou captived thing.”
But in the dusk of the night,
Too sudden-swift to see,
Closing and ivory gates
Are refuge unto me.
Too sudden-swift to see,
Closing and ivory gates
Are refuge unto me.
My griefs, my tears must watch,
And cold the watch they keep;
They whisper, whisper there—
I hear them in my sleep.
And cold the watch they keep;
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I hear them in my sleep.
They know that I must come,
And patient watch they keep,
Whispering, shivering there,
Till I come back from sleep.
And patient watch they keep,
Whispering, shivering there,
Till I come back from sleep.
But in the dark of a night,
Too dark for them to see,
The refuge of black gates
Will open unto me.
Too dark for them to see,
The refuge of black gates
Will open unto me.
Whisper up there in the dark..
Shiver by bleak winds stung..
My dead lips laugh to hear
How long you wait... how long!
Shiver by bleak winds stung..
My dead lips laugh to hear
How long you wait... how long!
Grey gaolers are my griefs
That will not let me free;
The bitterness of tears
Is warder unto me.
That will not let me free;
The bitterness of tears
Is warder unto me.
The Witch
When I was girl by Nilus stream
I watched the desert stars arise;
My lover, he who dreamed the Sphinx,
Learned all his dreaming from my eyes.
I watched the desert stars arise;
My lover, he who dreamed the Sphinx,
Learned all his dreaming from my eyes.
I bore in Greece a burning name,
And I have been in Italy
Madonna to a painter-lad,
And mistress to a Medici.
And I have been in Italy
Madonna to a painter-lad,
And mistress to a Medici.
And have you heard (and I have heard)
Of puzzled men with decorous mien,
Who judged—The wench knows far too much—
And burnt her on the Salem green?
Of puzzled men with decorous mien,
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And burnt her on the Salem green?
Cry Of The Nymph To Eros
Hear thou my lamentatïon,
Eros, Aphrodite's son!
My heart is broken and my days are done.
Eros, Aphrodite's son!
My heart is broken and my days are done.
Where the woods are dark and the stream runs clear in the dark,
Eros!
Eros!
I prayed to thy mother and planted the seeds of her flowers,
And smiled at the planting and wept at the planting. Oh, violets,
Ye are dead and your whiteness, your sweetness, availed not. Thy mother
Is cruel. Her flowers lie dead at the steps of her altar,
Eros! Eros!
And smiled at the planting and wept at the planting. Oh, violets,
Ye are dead and your whiteness, your sweetness, availed not. Thy mother
Is cruel. Her flowers lie dead at the steps of her altar,
Eros! Eros!
With a shining like silver they cut through the blue of the sky
Eros!
The dove's wings, the white doves I brought to thy mother in worship;
And I said, she will laugh for joy of my doves. Oh, stillness
Of dead wings. She laughed not nor looked. My doves are dead,
Are dead at the steps of her altar. Thy mother is cruel,
Eros, Eros!
Eros!
The dove's wings, the white doves I brought to thy mother in worship;
And I said, she will laugh for joy of my doves. Oh, stillness
Of dead wings. She laughed not nor looked. My doves are dead,
Are dead at the steps of her altar. Thy mother is cruel,
Eros, Eros!
Hear thou my lamentatïon,
Eros, Aphrodite's son!
My heart is broken and my days are done.
Eros, Aphrodite's son!
My heart is broken and my days are done.
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Cradle-Song
Madonna, Madonnina
Sat by the grey road-side,
Saint Joseph her beside,
And Our Lord at her breast;
Oh they were fain to rest,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
All by the grey road-side.
Sat by the grey road-side,
Saint Joseph her beside,
And Our Lord at her breast;
Oh they were fain to rest,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
All by the grey road-side.
She said, Madonna Mary,
“I am thirsty, Joseph, and weary,
All in the desert wide.”
Then bent a tall palm-tree
Its branches low to her knee;
“Behold,” the palm-tree said,
“My fruit that is drink and bread.”
So were they satisfied,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
All by the grey road-side.
“I am thirsty, Joseph, and weary,
All in the desert wide.”
Then bent a tall palm-tree
Its branches low to her knee;
“Behold,” the palm-tree said,
“My fruit that is drink and bread.”
So were they satisfied,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
All by the grey road-side.
From Herod they were fled
Over the desert wide,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
In Egypt to abide:
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
In Egypt to abide.
Over the desert wide,
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
In Egypt to abide:
Mary and Joseph and Jesus,
In Egypt to abide.
The blessèd Queen of Heaven
Her own dear Son hath given
For my son's sake; his sleep
Is safe and sweet and deep.
Her own dear Son hath given
For my son's sake; his sleep
Is safe and sweet and deep.
Lully.. Lulley..
So may you sleep alway,
My baby, my dear son:
Amen, Amen, Amen.
So may you sleep alway,
My baby, my dear son:
Amen, Amen, Amen.
My baby, my dear son.
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To Man Who Goes Seeking Immortality Bidding Him Look Nearer Home.
Too far afield thy search. Nay, turn. Nay, turn.At thine own elbow potent Memory stands,
Thy double, and eternity is cupped
In the pale hollow of those ghostly hands.
The Lonely Death
In the cold I will rise, I will batheIn waters of ice; myself
Will shiver, and shrive myself,
Alone in the dawn, and anoint
Forehead and feet and hands;
I will shutter the windows from light,
I will place in their sockets the four
Tall candles and set them a-flame
In the grey of the dawn; and myself
Will lay myself straight in my bed,
And draw the sheet under my chin.
Lo, All The Way
Lo, all the way,Look you, I said, the clouds will break, the sky
Grow clear, the road
Be easier for my travelling, the fields,
So sodden and dead,
Will shimmer with new green and starry bloom,
And there will be,
There will be then, with all serene and fair,
Some little while
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The journey's end,
Grey road, grey fields, wind and a bitter rain.
The Crucifixion
And the centurion who stood by said:
Truly this was a son of God.
Truly this was a son of God.
Not long ago but everywhere I go
There is a hill and a black windy sky.
Portent of hill, sky, day's eclipse I know;
Hill, sky, the shuddering darkness, these am I.
There is a hill and a black windy sky.
Portent of hill, sky, day's eclipse I know;
Hill, sky, the shuddering darkness, these am I.
The dying at His right hand, at His left,
I am—the thief redeemed and the lost thief;
I am the careless folk; I those bereft,
The Well-Belov'd, the women bowed in grief.
I am—the thief redeemed and the lost thief;
I am the careless folk; I those bereft,
The Well-Belov'd, the women bowed in grief.
The gathering Presence that in terror cried,
In earth's shock, in the Temple's veil rent through,
I; and a watcher, ignorant, curious-eyed,
I the centurion who heard and knew.
In earth's shock, in the Temple's veil rent through,
I; and a watcher, ignorant, curious-eyed,
I the centurion who heard and knew.
The Immortal Residue
Inscription for my verse
Wouldst thou find my ashes? LookIn the pages of my book;
And as these thy hand doth turn,
Know here is my funeral urn.
| The Complete Poems and Collected Letters of Adelaide Crapsey | |