Harry Crosby

(4 June 1898 - 10 December 1929 / Boston, Massachusetts)

Dryade


Raymonde
If it were not for you
I would not be glad today
And I would continue to dream
Of lovely ladies in lands long ago
Or of maidens
that have not yet been born
If it were not for you
I would not enjoy quiet
Neither the moonlight, nor the stars,
Nor could I appreciate the fountains
Whose cool fingers
Wander among violets.

And it is because of you
Because you are beautiful
That I weave colors in the sun
Through whose great garden we have strayed unveiled
Chaste, interlaced,
With broken thoughts, half-spun.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 24, 2012

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