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

- Adelaide Crapsey

Listen ... With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break free from the trees And fall.

- Adelaide Crapsey

I knowNot these my handsAnd yet I think there wasA woman like me once had handsLike these.

- Adelaide Crapsey

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

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!

- Adelaide Crapsey

The oldOld winds that blewWhen chaos was, what doThey tell the clattered trees that IShould weep?

- Adelaide Crapsey