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… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
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… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“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,… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
“ 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… — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
