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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.

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
Autumn
Leaves
Glad
Tired
Year
Dies
Years
World
Faded

More quotes by 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 hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love The world is waiting for the spring.
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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
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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.
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There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.
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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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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I shall gather myself into my self again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
Sara Teasdale
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There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
Sara Teasdale
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Spend all you have for loveliness.
Sara Teasdale
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My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
Sara Teasdale
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Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
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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Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.
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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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.
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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One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me.
Sara Teasdale
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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
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