Triad.

Adelaide Crapsey

 Next Poem          

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

Next Poem 

 Back to Adelaide Crapsey
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.