Sara Teasdale Quotes
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Only by love is life made real.
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The poet should try to give his poem the quiet swiftness of flame, so that the reader will feel and not think while he is reading. But the thinking will come afterwards.
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Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
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I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from being mine.
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The ache of empty arms was an old tale to you.
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My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain.
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Let this single hour atone For the theft of all of me
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Places I love come back to me like music, Hush me and heal me when I am very tired.
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From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
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For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
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As dew leaves the cobweb lightly Threaded with stars, Scattering jewels on the fence And the pasture bars; As dawn leaves the dry grass bright And the tangled weeds Bearing a rainbow gem On each of their seeds; So has your love, my lover, Fresh as the dawn, Made me a shining road To travel on, Set every common sight Of tree or stone Delicately alight For me alone.
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Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill, In the dawn clouds flying, How good to go, light into light, and still. Giving light, dying.
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One by one, like leaves from a tree, All my faiths have forsaken me.
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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
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The roofs are shining from the rain, The sparrows twitter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back yards are bare and brown With only one unchanging tree- I could not be so sure of Spring Save that it sings in me.
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A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.
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Of my own spirit let me be in sole though feeble mastery.
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But oh, to him I loved Who loved me not at all,I owe the little open gate That led thru heaven's wall.
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Call him wise whose actions, words, and steps are all a clear because to a clear why.
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Faults They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before,-- Oh, they were blind, too blind to see Your faults had made me love you more.
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Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.
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Stephen kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest, Robin’s lost in play, But the kiss in Colin’s eyes Haunts me night and day.
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I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
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Down the hill I went, and then, I forgot the ways of men, For night-scents, heady and damp and cool Wakened ecstasy