United States, Poet August 8, 1884 – January, 29, 1933.
Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914.
What we have never had, remains; It is the things we have that go.
look for a lovely thing and you will find it, it is not far, it never will be far
My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
Joy was a flame in me Too steady to destroy. Lithe as a bending reed, Loving the storm that sways her
How many million Aprils came before I ever knew how white a cherry bough could be, a bed of squills, how blue And many a dancing April when life is done with me, will lift the blue flame of the flower and the white flame of the tree Oh burn me with your beauty then, oh hurt me tree and flower, lest in the end death try to take even this glistening hour.
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