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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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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
Soul
Broken
Whole
Grace
Giving
Wise
Would
Chance
Stills
Give
Gratefulness
Still
Lovely
Body
Rise

More quotes by Sara Teasdale

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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 leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.
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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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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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A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love The world is waiting for the spring.
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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
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SONG You bound strong sandals on my feet, You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet, You know not what you do, For all my world is in your arms, My sun and stars are you.
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Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, I love you, I love you, - oh what have IThat I can give you in return - Except my body after I die?
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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 is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
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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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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.
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I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
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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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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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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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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.
Sara Teasdale
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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
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