---

Adelaide Crapsey - Autumn
Work rating: Low

Fugitive, wistful, 

Pausing at edge of her going, 

Autumn, the maiden, turns, 

Leans to the earth with ineffable 

Gesture. Ah, more than 

Spring`s skies her skies shine 

Tender and frailer 

Bloom than plum-bloom or almond 

Lies on her hillsides, her fields, 

Misted, faint-flushing. Ah, lovelier 

Is her refusal than 

Yielding who pauses with grave 

Backward smiling, with light 

Unforgettable touch of 

Fingers withdrawn. . . Pauses, lo 

Vanishes. . fugitive, wistful. . . 


 
x
"Ah me… Alas" 


(He) 


Ah me, my love`s heart, 

Like some frail flower, apart, 

High, on the cliff`s edge growing, 

Touched by unhindered sun to sweeter showing, 

Swung by each faint wind`s faintest blowing, 

But so, on the cliff`s edge growing, 

From man`s reach aloof, apart: 

Ah me, my love`s heart! 


(She) 


Alack, alas, my lover, 

As one who would discover 

At world`s end his path, 

Nor knows at all what fae[umlaut]ry way he hath 

Who turneth dreaming into faith 

And followeth that near path 

His own heart dareth to discover: 

Alack, alas, my lover!
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.