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Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

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
Time
Flower
Singing
Friend
Fire
Forever
Ever
Kind
Forgotten
Make
Gold

More quotes by Sara Teasdale

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Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
Sara Teasdale
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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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I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
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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One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me.
Sara Teasdale
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I am not yours, nor lost in you, not lost, although I long to be. Lost as a candle lit at noon, lost as a snowflake in the sea. You love me, and I find you still a spirit beautiful and bright, yet I am I, who long to be lost as a light is lost in light.
Sara Teasdale
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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
Sara Teasdale
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My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
Sara Teasdale
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The window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.
Sara Teasdale
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It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
Sara Teasdale
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Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.
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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The leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.
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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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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Old love, old love, / How can I be true? / Shall I be faithless to myself / Or to you?
Sara Teasdale
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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.
Sara Teasdale
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It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
Sara Teasdale
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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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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