The Proud Poet by Adelaide Crapsey Great Kings were dust and all their deeds forgot Did my harp's taut and burnished strings stand mute; The fragrance of dead ladies' lovely names Blew never down but for my lute. Tags: love poemlove poemslove poems for herlove poetrypoems about loveromantic poemsShort PoemsRate this poem: Report SPAM Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Report violation Log in or register to post comments
