Quote #2

These be Three silent things: The falling snow...the hour Before the dawn...the mouth of one Just dead.

More from Adelaide Crapsey

  1. The old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that I Should weep?
  2. Listen. With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.
  3. I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
  4. Artists give us not conclusions but evidence.

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