Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale

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Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914.
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Love Songs

I have remembered beauty in the night,
Against black silences I waked to seeA shower of sunlight over
And green Ravello dreaming on her height;
I have remembered music in the dark,
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When I have ceased to break my wings Against the faultiness of things,
And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate,
When I have looked Life in the eyes,
Grown calm and very coldly wise,
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One by one, like leaves from a tree All my faiths have forsaken me;
But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red,
And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth
I who was content to be But a silken-sing...
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Roses And Rue

Bring me the roses white and red,
And take the laurel leaves away;
Yea, wreathe the roses round my
That wearies 'neath the crown of bay
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My soul lives in my body's house,
And you have both the house and her —But sometimes she is less your own Than a wild, gay adventurer;
A restless and an eager wraith,
How can I tell what she will do —Oh,
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It will not hurt me when I am old,
A running tide where moonlight
Will not sting me like silver snakes;
The years will make me sad and cold,
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There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
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I Shall Not Care

When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough;
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Alone in the
On a dark
With pines around
Spicy and still,
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The Fountain

Oh in the deep blue night The fountain sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart Of a satyr carved in stone
The fountain sang and sang But the satyr never stirred— Only the great white moon In the empty heaven heard
The fountain sang ...
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In The Train

Fields beneath a quilt of snow From which the rocks and stubble sleep,
And in the west a shy white star That shivers as it wakes from deep
The restless rumble of the train,
The drowsy people in the car,
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Two Minds

Your mind and mine are such great lovers
Have freed themselves from cautious human clay,
And on wild clouds of thought, naked
They ride above us in extreme delight;
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Let It Be Forgotten

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
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The Kiss

I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south
For though I know he loves me,
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In Spring Santa Barbara

VE been happy two weeks together,
My love is coming home to me,
Gold and silver is the
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Child Child

Child, child, love while you
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man;
Never fear though it break your heart —Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
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