Danske Dandridge

  • The Spirit of the Fall

    Come, on thy swaying feet,
    Wild Spirit of the Fall!
    With wind-blown skirts, loose hair of russet-brown,
    Crowned with bright berries of the bitter-sweet.

    Trip a light measure with the hurrying leaf,
    Straining thy few late roses to thy breast,
    With...

  • The Dead Moon

        we are ghost-ridden:
          Through the deep night
        Wanders a spirit,
          Noiseless and white;
    Loiters not, lingers not, knoweth not rest,
    Ceaselessly haunting the East and the West.

    She, whose undoing the ages have wrought,
    Moves...