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Triad

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

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Adelaide Crapsey

by this poet

poem
Listen. . .
With faint dry sound, 
Like steps of passing ghosts, 
The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees 
And fall.
poem
Every day, 
Every day, 
Tell the hours 
By their shadows, 
By their shadows.
poem
I know 
Not these my hands 
And yet I think there was 
A woman like me once had hands 
Like these.