In the darkness, who would answer for the color of a rose, Or the vestments of the May moth and the pilgrimage it goes?
Nathalia CraneAcross the downs a hummingbird Came dipping through the bowers, He pivoted on emptiness To scrutinize the flowers.
Nathalia CraneThe sun shall shine in ages yet to be, The musing moon illumine pastures dim, And afterwards a new nativity For all who slept the dreamless interim.
Nathalia CraneOh I'm in love with the janitor's boy, And the janitor's boy loves me; He's going to hunt for a desert isle In our geography.
Nathalia Crane