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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.

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
Remains
Things
Never

More quotes by 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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Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.
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 window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.
Sara Teasdale
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The spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonlight, The lilac brimmed with dew. Here in the moving shadows I catch my breath and sing - My heart is fresh and fearless And over-brimmed with spring.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
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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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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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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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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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
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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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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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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Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
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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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.
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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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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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