Fate Defied

As it
Were tissue of silver
I'll wear, O Fate, thy grey,
And go mistily radiant, clad
Like the moon.

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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The Immortal Residue Inscription for my verse

Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look

In the pages of my book;

And as these thy hand doth turn,

Know here is my funeral urn.

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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The Elgin Marbles

The clustered Gods, the marching lads,

The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed Three,

The shimmering grey-gold London fog . . .

I wish that Phidias could see!

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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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.

Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grief
In such soft sigh
As hath the wind in gardens where
Pale roses die.

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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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?

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?

How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie!'

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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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?

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?

How God will be glad of thee,
Little Sister Rose-Marie!'

poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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As I Went

As I went, as I went
Over the mountains,
I heard, I heard,
Through cloud-wreath and mist,
A hound that was baying -
Death . . it was death.
As I went, as I went
Over the meadows,
I heard, I heard,
From thicket, from shadow,
A hidden bird fluting -
Death . . it was death.
As I went, as I went
By rocks and by sand-dunes,
I heard, I heard,
At the dea's bottom
A silver fish swimming -
Death . . it was death.
As I went, as I went
In my house, in my house,

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poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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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.

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,

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poem by Adelaide Crapsey
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