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Faults They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before,-- Oh, they were blind, too blind to see Your faults had made me love you more.

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
Done
Laughed
Made
Faults
Love
Blind
Knew
Came
Tell
Wells
Aloud
Well
Named

More quotes by Sara Teasdale

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There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.
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Love said, Wake still and think of me, Sleep, Close your eyes till break of day, But Dreams came by and smilingly Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.
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Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, I love you, I love you, - oh what have IThat I can give you in return - Except my body after I die?
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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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When I can look life in the eyes, grown calm and very coldly wise, life will have given me the truth, and taken in exchange - my youth.
Sara Teasdale
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Love in my heart is a cry forever Lost as the swallow's flight, Seeking for you and never, never Stilled by the stars at night
Sara Teasdale
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Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love -But you will not assuage him. He aloneOf all the gods will take no gifts from men.
Sara Teasdale
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Old love, old love, / How can I be true? / Shall I be faithless to myself / Or to you?
Sara Teasdale
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Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
Sara Teasdale
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And for a breath of ecstasy / Give all you have been, or could be.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
Sara Teasdale
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A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love The world is waiting for the spring.
Sara Teasdale
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My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
Sara Teasdale
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The roofs are shining from the rain, The sparrows twitter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back yards are bare and brown With only one unchanging tree- I could not be so sure of Spring Save that it sings in me.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
Sara Teasdale
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But what do I care, for love will be over so soon, Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by, For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent, It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
Sara Teasdale
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It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
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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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.
Sara Teasdale