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I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful when rain bends down the bough And I shall be more silent and cold hearted than you are now.

Sara Teasdale

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Sara Teasdale
Age: 48 †
Born: 1884
Born: August 8
Died: 1933
Died: January 29
Poet
Writer
St. Louis
Missouri
Sara Teasdale Filsinger
Sara Trevor Teasdale
Tree
Suicidal
Shall
Hearted
Peace
Peaceful
Trees
Suicide
Rain
Leafy
Silent
Bough
Cold
Bends

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O lovely chance, what can I doTo give my gratefulness to you?You rise between myself and meWith a wise persistencyI would have broken body and soul,But by your grace, still I am whole.
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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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There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
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Now at last I have come to see what life is, Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun, And the brave victories that seem so splendid Are never really won.
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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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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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It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakesThe years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks.
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It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
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Life has loveliness to sell, / Music like a curve of gold, / Scent of pine trees in the rain, / Eyes that love you, arms that hold, / And for your spirit's still delight, / Holy thoughts that star the night.
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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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I shall gather myself into my self again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
Sara Teasdale
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My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
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Take love when love is given, But never think to find it A sure escape from sorrow Or a complete repose.
Sara Teasdale
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I try to catch at many a tuneLike petals of light fallen from the moon,Broken and bright on a dark lagoon,But they float away - for who can holdYouth, or perfume or the moon's gold?
Sara Teasdale
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A delicate fabric of bird song Floats in the air, The smell of wet wild earth Is everywhere. Oh I must pass nothing by Without loving it much, The raindrop try with my lips, The grass with my touch For how can I be sure I shall see again The world on the first of May Shining after the rain?
Sara Teasdale
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SONG You bound strong sandals on my feet, You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet, You know not what you do, For all my world is in your arms, My sun and stars are you.
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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.
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Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.
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My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
Sara Teasdale