Poem by Adelaide Crapsey

Dirge

NEVER the nightingale,
    Oh, my dear, 
Never again the lark
    Thou wilt hear; 
Though dusk and the morning still
Tap at thy window-sill,
Though ever love call and call
Thou wilt not hear at all,
    My dear, my dear. 

1. The Guarded Wound
2. Moon Shadows

Edna Millay Dirge ("Boys and girls that held her dear")

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