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Best Famous Sara Teasdale Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Sara Teasdale poems. This is a select list of the best famous Sara Teasdale poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Sara Teasdale poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of sara teasdale poems.

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by Sara Teasdale | |

I Am Not Yours

I am not yours, not 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.
Oh plunge me deep in love - put out My senses, leave me deaf and blind, Swept by the tempest of your love, A taper in a rushing wind.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Buried Love

 I have come to bury Love
 Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
 Where none can see.
I shall put no flowers at his head, Nor stone at his feet, For the mouth I loved so much Was bittersweet.
I shall go no more to his grave, For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy As my hands can hold.
I shall stay all day in the sun Where the wide winds blow, -- But oh, I shall cry at night When none will know.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Alone

 I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give—
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
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 unfurled; With earth hidden and heaven hidden, And only my own spirit's pride To keep me from the peace of those Who are not lonely, having died.


by Sara Teasdale | |

I Thought Of You

 I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
And walking up the long beach all alone 
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone.
Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Because

 Oh, because you never tried
To bow my will or break my pride,
And nothing of the cave-man made
You want to keep me half afraid,
Nor ever with a conquering air
You thought to draw me unaware --
Take me, for I love you more
Than I ever loved before.
And since the body's maidenhood Alone were neither rare nor good Unless with it I gave to you A spirit still untrammeled, too, Take my dreams and take my mind That were masterless as wind; And "Master!" I shall say to you Since you never asked me to.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Did You Never Know?

 Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me—
That your love would never lessen and never go?
You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,
You were too young to know.
Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before it Far apart, far away in the gusty time of year— Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking, I know your secret, my dear, my dear.


by Sara Teasdale | |

I Am Not Yours

 I am not yours, not 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.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out My senses, leave me deaf and blind, Swept by the tempest of your love, A taper in a rushing wind.


by Sara Teasdale | |

A Cry

 Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
 And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be
 Only a voice.
Oh, there are breasts to bear his head, And lips whereon his lips can lie, But I must be till I am dead Only a cry.


by Sara Teasdale | |

After Love

 There is no magic any more,
 We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
 Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea -- There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm And from the tide has found surcease, It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Houses Of Dreams

 You took my empty dreams
 And filled them every one
With tenderness and nobleness,
 April and the sun.
The old empty dreams Where my thoughts would throng Are far too full of happiness To even hold a song.
Oh, the empty dreams were dim And the empty dreams were wide, They were sweet and shadowy houses Where my thoughts could hide.
But you took my dreams away And you made them all come true -- My thoughts have no place now to play, And nothing now to do.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Spring Rain

 I thought I had forgotten,
 But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
 In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway Where we stood while the storm swept by, Thunder gripping the earth And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed, For the street was a river of rain, Lashed into little golden waves In the lamp light's stain.
With the wild spring rain and thunder My heart was wild and gay; Your eyes said more to me that night Than your lips would ever say.
.
.
.
I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain.


by Sara Teasdale | |

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.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall In a long-forgotten snow.


by Sara Teasdale | |

I Remembered

 There never was a mood of mine,
Gay or heart-broken, luminous or dull,
But you could ease me of its fever
And give it back to me more beutiful.
In many another soul I broke the bread, And drank the wine and played the happy guest, But I was lonely, I remembered you; The heart belong to him who knew it best.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Come

 Come, when the pale moon like a petal
 Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
 Come with lips pursed up to cling.
Come, for life is a frail moth flying, Caught in the web of the years that pass, And soon we two, so warm and eager, Will be as the gray stones in the grass.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Love And Death

 Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep,
And shall my soul that lies within your hand
Remember nothing, as the blowing sand
Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep
When winds along the darkened desert sweep?

Or would it still remember, tho' it spanned
A thousand heavens, while the planets fanned
The vacant ether with their voices deep?
Soul of my soul, no word shall be forgot,
Nor yet alone, beloved, shall we see

The desolation of extinguished suns,
Nor fear the void wherethro' our planet runs,
For still together shall we go and not
Fare forth alone to front eternity.


by Sara Teasdale | |

After Parting

 Oh, I have sown my love so wide
 That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
 It will enfold him in the air.
I set my shadow in his sight And I have winged it with desire, That it may be a cloud by day, And in the night a shaft of fire.


by Sara Teasdale | |

Dust

 When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire—
But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.
I almost gave my life long ago for a thing That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes— It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.


by Sara Teasdale | |

What Do I Care?

 What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring,
That my songs do not show me at all?
For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire,
I am an answer, they are only a call.
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.


by Sara Teasdale | |

My Heart Is Heavy

 My heart is heavy with many a song
Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree, 
But I can never give you one --
My songs do not belong to me.
Yet in the evening, in the dusk When moths go to and fro, In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen, Take it, no one will know.


by Sara Teasdale | |

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 and sang And on the marble rim The milk-white peacocks slept, Their dreams were strange and dim.
Bright dew was on the grass, And on the ilex dew, The dreamy milk-white birds Were all a-glisten too.
The fountain sang and sang The things one cannot tell, The dreaming peacocks stirred And the gleaming dew-drops fell.