Quote

The window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.

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
Flowers
Window
Flower
Wall
Myriads
Light
Bloom
Like
Lights
Climbing
Walls

More quotes by 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.
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.
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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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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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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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Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
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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I shall not let a sorrow die Until I find the heart of it, Nor let a wordless joy go by Until it talks to me a bit.
Sara Teasdale
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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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What we have never had, remains It is the things we have that go.
Sara Teasdale
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I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
Sara Teasdale
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My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
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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My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.
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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It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.
Sara Teasdale
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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.
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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The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die.
Sara Teasdale