I knowNot these my handsAnd yet I think there wasA woman like me once had handsLike these.
My object to venture the suggestion that an important application of phonetics to metrical problems lies in the study of phonetic word-structure.Adelaide Crapsey
The oldOld winds that blewWhen chaos was, what doThey tell the clattered trees that IShould weep?Adelaide Crapsey
These beThree silent things:The falling snow...the hourBefore the dawn...the mouth of oneJust dead.Adelaide Crapsey
Listen. With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees And fall.Adelaide Crapsey
The old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that I Should weep?Adelaide Crapsey