My theory is that poems are written because of a state of emotional irritation. It may be present for some time before the poet is conscious of what is tormenting him. The emotional irritation springs, probably, from subconscious combinations of… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
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. — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“In Warsaw in Poland Half the world away, The one I love best of all Thought of me to-day; I know, for I went Winged as a bird, In the wide flowing wind His own voice I heard; His arms were round me In a ferny place, I looked in the pool And there was his face– But now it… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
I am alone, as though I stood On the highest peak of the tired gray world,About me only swirling snow, Above me, endless space… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was not other creature… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
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… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“Oh, I could let the world go by, Its loud new wonders and its wars, BUt how will I give up the sky When winter dusk is set with stars? And I could let the cities go, Their changing customs and their creeds,– In silver on the jewel-weeds!” — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
“I gave my first love laughter, I gave my second tears, I gave my third love silence Through all the years. My first love… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“On a midsummer night, on a night that was eerie with stars, In a wood too deep for a single star to look through, You led down a path whose turnings you knew in the darkness, But the scent of the dew-dripping cedars was all that I knew. I drank of the darkness, I was fed with the honey of… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
“ At Night Love said, "Wake still and think of me," Sleep, "Close your eyes till break of day," But Dreams came by and… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart the breaks. The hearts asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold,… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share
