The very serpents bite their tails; the bees forget to sting, For a language so celestial setteth up a wondering. And the touch of absent mindedness is more than any line, Since direction counts for nothing when the gods set… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share Image
The sign work of the Orient it runneth up and down; The Talmud stalks from right to left, a rabbi in a gown; The Roman rolls from left to right from Maytime unto May; But the gods shake up their… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share Image
The very serpents bite their tails; the bees forget to sting, For a language so celestial setteth up a wondering. And the touch of… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Lo and behold! God made this starry wold, The maggot and the mold; lo and behold! He taught the grass contentment blade by blade,… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
You cannot choose your battlefield, The Gods do that for you; But you can plant a standard Where a standard never flew. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
I linger on the flathouse roof, the moonlight is divine. But my heart is all aflutter like the washing on the line. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Oh 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… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Across the downs a hummingbird Came dipping through the bowers, He pivoted on emptiness To scrutinize the flowers. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
When you return, the youngest of the seers, Released from fetters of ancestral pose, There will be beauty waiting down the years Revisions of… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
The rose has told In one simplicity That never life Relinquishes a bloom But to bestow An ancient confidence. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Great is the rose Infected by the tomb, Yet burgeoning Indifferent to death. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Great is the rose That challenges the crypt, And quotes milleniums Against the grave. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
Once a pallid Vestal Doubted truth in blue; Listed red in ruin, Harried every hue; Barricaded vision, Garbed herself in sighs; Ridiculed the birthmarks… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
The world is growing gentle, But few know what she owes To the understanding lily And the judgment of the rose. — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
A precious place is Paradise and none may know its worth, But Eden ever longeth for the knicknacks of the earth. The angels grow… — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
“You cannot choose your battlefield, God does that for you; But you can plant a standard Where a standard never flew. (From The Colors )” — Nathalia Crane Copy Share
