Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Happy Birthday, Sara

Today in St Louis, Missouri, in 1884 Sara Teasdale was born.

It Is Not A Word

It is not a word spoken,
Few words are said;
Nor even a look of the eyes
Nor a bend of the head,

But only a hush of the heart
That has too much to keep,
Only memories waking
That sleep so light a sleep.

Oh! You Are Coming

Oh you are coming, coming, coming,
How will hungry Time put by the hours till then? --
But why does it anger my heart to long so
For one man out of the world of men?

Oh I would live in myself only
And build my life lightly and still as a dream --
Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts
And colored like stones in a running stream?

Now the slow moon brightens in heaven,
The stars are ready, the night is here --
Oh why must I lose myself to love you,
My dear?




(more poems here)

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1 Comments:

At 6:22 PM, August 08, 2012 Anonymous Anne Higgins had this to say...

Thanks for posting the Sara Teasdale poems; she doesn't get enough appreciation!

Anne

 

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