Read some of the cinquains of Adelaide Crapsey, and then write a cinquain of your own, or, if you’d rather, a tanka.
Tag: 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
Just now, Out of the strange Still dusk… as strange, as still… A white moth flew… Why am I grown So cold?
Is it as plainly in our living shown, By slant and twist, which way the wind hath blown? – Adelaide Crapsey
“Why do You thus devise Evil against her?” “For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.”