I know little about Crapsey's life other than what I read and then forgot
from the intros in my mother's old High School anthology and the Untermeyer
British and American Poetry 1944 ed. (I think), both of which I grew up
with. Both passed on to a better world, along with my memory of the content
of those introductions, except that she was a prodigy, publishing early and
often, and apparently never married. She's best known for the cinquains,
which follow the syllable count 2/4/6/8/2. She was famous in her
generation. I remember writing a few of them when I was a teen, about which
probably the less said the better.

The Untermeyer tries (and for the most part succeeds) to be extremely
representative. Hard to imagine that anybody could really like both Edwin
Markham and Williams, but both are represented. Those of you across the
water shouldn't worry too much about not knowing Edwin Markham.
 
At 01:48 PM 9/20/2000 -0400, you wrote:
>Alison wrote:
>
>>Tell me more about Adelaide Crapsey, Candice - not a name that's swum
>>across my ken.
>
>Happy to oblige with a sampling of her poetry, although I know nothing 
>about her, biographically. (Maybe an Americanist listee--Henry? Mark?
>could post something about her life.) She lived from 1878 to 1914, 
>according to Louis Untermeyer, in whose 1919 anthology, _Modern 
>American Poetry_, I came across (and was stunned by) the following 
>three poems:
>
>Triad
>
>These be
>Three silent things:
>The falling snow...the hour
>Before the dawn...the mouth of one
>Just dead.
>
>
>The Warning
>
>Just now,
>Out of the strange
>Still dusk...as strange, as still...
>A white moth flew. Why am I grown
>So cold?
>
>
>On Seeing Weather-Beaten Trees
>
>Is it as plainly in our living shown,
>By slant and twist, which way the wind hath blown?
>
>
>Just recently, I'd discovered the University of Michigan's 
>electronic "Humanities Text Initiative American Verse Collection"
>(http://www.hti.umich.edu/bin/amv-idx), where I found not only 
>the complete text of HD's _Sea Garden_ but also parts 1 & 2 of 
>Crapsey's _Cinquains_ (1911, 1913).
> 
>Here, then, are some poems from that collection, much of which
>seems very avant-garde, especially in comparison to the rest of
>Untermeyer's anthology, though, to be fair to him, he's no spoon
>riverman either:
>
>
>Trapped
>
>Well and
>If day on day
>Follows, and weary year
>On year...and ever days and years...
>Well?
>
>
>Night Winds
>
>The old
>Old winds that blew
>When chaos was, what do
>They tell the clattered trees that I
>Should weep?
>
>
>Amaze
>
>I know
>Not these my hands
>And yet I think there was
>A woman like me once had hands
>Like these.
>
>
>The Sun-Dial
>
>Every day,
>Every day,
>Tell the hours
>By their shadows,
>By their shadows.
>
>
>
>I'll try to post some longer poems later if people are interested--
>
>Candice
>
>
>
>


At 01:48 PM 9/20/2000 -0400, [log in to unmask] wrote:
>Alison wrote:
>
>>Tell me more about Adelaide Crapsey, Candice - not a name that's swum
>>across my ken.
>
>Happy to oblige with a sampling of her poetry, although I know nothing 
>about her, biographically. (Maybe an Americanist listee--Henry? Mark?
>could post something about her life.) She lived from 1878 to 1914, 
>according to Louis Untermeyer, in whose 1919 anthology, _Modern 
>American Poetry_, I came across (and was stunned by) the following 
>three poems:
>
>Triad
>
>These be
>Three silent things:
>The falling snow...the hour
>Before the dawn...the mouth of one
>Just dead.
>
>
>The Warning
>
>Just now,
>Out of the strange
>Still dusk...as strange, as still...
>A white moth flew. Why am I grown
>So cold?
>
>
>On Seeing Weather-Beaten Trees
>
>Is it as plainly in our living shown,
>By slant and twist, which way the wind hath blown?
>
>
>Just recently, I'd discovered the University of Michigan's 
>electronic "Humanities Text Initiative American Verse Collection"
>(http://www.hti.umich.edu/bin/amv-idx), where I found not only 
>the complete text of HD's _Sea Garden_ but also parts 1 & 2 of 
>Crapsey's _Cinquains_ (1911, 1913).
> 
>Here, then, are some poems from that collection, much of which
>seems very avant-garde, especially in comparison to the rest of
>Untermeyer's anthology, though, to be fair to him, he's no spoon
>riverman either:
>
>
>Trapped
>
>Well and
>If day on day
>Follows, and weary year
>On year...and ever days and years...
>Well?
>
>
>Night Winds
>
>The old
>Old winds that blew
>When chaos was, what do
>They tell the clattered trees that I
>Should weep?
>
>
>Amaze
>
>I know
>Not these my hands
>And yet I think there was
>A woman like me once had hands
>Like these.
>
>
>The Sun-Dial
>
>Every day,
>Every day,
>Tell the hours
>By their shadows,
>By their shadows.
>
>
>
>I'll try to post some longer poems later if people are interested--
>
>Candice
>
>
>
>



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