Best Teasdale Poems

When I was young, a book was given me:
a small book with the title "Those Who Love."
Its female author I knew nothing of -
This dreamer poetess wrote beautifully.

Gentle, practical and solitary,
Sara was in love with nature and
understood the things in life most grand;
this dreamer poetess...

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Dear Sara Teasdale,
I admire you very much,
I love your poem "Planets"
And ''The dragon alley dutch''

I read a poem in my book,
It's called "The falling Star",
And I must ask you how you wrote,
About things both near and far.

Your imagery is great,
Which no one else can beat,
Your...

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She comes back to earth
On some fragrant nights
When moonlight burns
While everyone is blinded by stars
She whisperes to lovers
Not to shut their hearts
Because love will cry
And the wounds in their brests 
Will never heal
She was till her death
Only a sigh, heavy with songs,
But then she joined...

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Sara Teasdale 'MAIDEN'

             _ _                          _ _
 play...

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“I shall die not knowing the thing I longed to know.” - from I KNOW THE STARS, Sara Teasdale

I have a thin volume of poetry I got when young.
Its title is “Those Who Love.” The author was an American
who lived  during a poetically creative...

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Why should I care about rain and or snow,
About your green leaves that were silver and gold.
Or on a bush on that hill that will never be seen!
Or all of the trees that you climbed as a kid,
But summer was ours by the sea.

But lovely...

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Grace is the glitter of the morning dew,
A silent dance of sunlight through the trees,
The tender touch of petals kissed by blue,
A song that rides upon the softest breeze.

It is the gentleness of falling leaves,
A moonlit path that leads us through the night,
The solace found...

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After death and to long loves forgotten,
Will I still remember you.
Twilight's dream's,
Dream's of love, we both have left unsaid.

I cannot wait here somewhere there,
While you still love someone here.
And the whispers to her from you that I hear,
Are not those of love about us, in...

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My poetry project of Sara Teasdale with music is at my website...

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The night swallowed her, quiet as the sea,
Where the waves carried whispers, heavy and deep—
Sara, a ripple lost in the currents of time,
A flicker gone dark beneath the moon's hollow eye.

Oceans curled their backs to kiss the blue sky,
Choked on salt and her long drawn...

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They sang to stars, to flowers pale with dew,
To hearts that bled beneath the waning moon;
Yet every song they wove from sorrow grew,
Each note a dirge, each rhyme a fading tune.

The world too heavy, pressing on their soul's,
A crown of thorns their tender temples bore;
Love...

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Sarah Teasdale, a poet of grace,
Her words like whispers filled the space.
Born in the year of eighteen eighty-four,
Her life's tale, forever to explore.

A tender soul with a heart that bled,
In verse, her emotions were widely spread.
Love, nature, and longing her themes,
She painted beauty with eloquent...

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Purple in the sky, the night is clear,
The quiet waves sigh softly in my ear,
A tender hymn of love the ocean weaves,
As twilight gently falls on whispering leaves.

The sea reflects the sky's amethyst hue,
Each wave a lover’s touch, soft and true,
Their whispers blend with winds...

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My toes are petals, pale and small,
Whispering secrets to the night;
They dance upon the marble floor,
Tracing dreams in silver light.

Each step I take, they softly press
Against the earth, so cool and wide,
They know the songs of summer’s end
And winter’s kiss, where we would hide.

They curl...

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When will there come soft rain, serene and slow,
To kiss the silent earth and make it bloom?
The skies have whispered tales of falling snow,
But rain will banish all the heart’s deep gloom.

The trees stand still, their branches full and high,
While waiting for the tender rain...

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