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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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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
Heart
Breaks
Years
Burned
Make
Silver
Like
Cold
Sting
Hurt
Moonlight
Break
Tide
Happy
Snakes
Running
Tides

More quotes by Sara Teasdale

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Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.
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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
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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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I am alone, as though I stood On the highest peak of the tired gray world,About me only swirling snow, Above me, endless space unfurledWith earth hidden and heaven hidden, And only my own spirit's prideTo keep me from the peace of those Who are not lonely, having died.
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Old love, old love, / How can I be true? / Shall I be faithless to myself / Or to you?
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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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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.
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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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Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
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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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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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It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
Sara Teasdale
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It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
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.
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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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Spend all you have for loveliness.
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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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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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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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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