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

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There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
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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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I shall gather myself into my self again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me.
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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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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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Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.
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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
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And for a breath of ecstasy / Give all you have been, or could be.
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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.
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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?
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It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
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The window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.
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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.
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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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