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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?

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
Earth
Give
Body
Giving
Except
Love
Gave
Return
Dies

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No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
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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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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.
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I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
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I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful when rain bends down the bough And I shall be more silent and cold hearted than you are now.
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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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And for a breath of ecstasy / Give all you have been, or could be.
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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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There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
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It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
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The window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.
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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.
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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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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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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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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
Sara Teasdale
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My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
Sara Teasdale
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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
Sara Teasdale
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A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love The world is waiting for the spring.
Sara Teasdale