Funeral Poems, Readings, Music, Quotations & Thoughts

Three Silent Things

Not silent things but three of the strange and beautiful 'cinquains' written by Adelaide Crapsey before her death from tuberculosis in 1914 aged 36. Each short abstract poem is of five lines, growing in length and falling back on the fifth line like an exhalation. Adelaide CrapseyThe picture shows her in her patient's gown in the sanatorium at Saranac Lake, New York where she died.


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


Still as
On windless nights
The moon-cast shadows are,
So still will be my heart when I
Am dead.


Just now,
Out of the strange
Still dusk…as strange, as still…
A white moth flew. Why am I grown
So cold?

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