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Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale

Twilight

Dreamily over the roofs
The cold spring rain is falling,
Out in the lonely tree
A bird is calling, calling.
 
Slowly over the earth
The wings of night are falling;
My heart like the bird in the tree
Is calling, calling, calling.

#Americans #PulitzerPrize #Suicide #Women #XXCentury

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To Eleonora Duse I

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So soon my body will have gone Beyond the sound and sight of men, And tho’ it wakes and suffers now, Its sleep will be unbroken then; But oh, my frail immortal soul
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The summer dawn came over-soon, The earth was like hot iron at noo… In Nazareth; There fell no rain to ease the hea… And dusk drew on with tired feet
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The kings they came from out the s… All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysopras… And gifts of precious wine. The shepherds came from out the no…
To One Away

I heard a cry in the night, A thousand miles it came, Sharp as a flash of light, My name, my name! It was your voice I heard,
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The northern woods are delicately… The lake is folded softly by the s… But I am restless for the subway’… The thunder and the hurrying of fe… I try to sleep, but still my eyeli…
Compensation

I SHOULD be glad of loneliness And hours that go on broken wings, A thirsty body, a tired heart And the unchanging ache of things, If I could make a single song
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When I can make my thoughts come… To walk like ladies up and down, Each one puts on before the glass Her most becoming hat and gown. But oh, the shy and eager thoughts
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As the waves of perfume, heliotrop… Float in the garden when no wind b… Come to us, go from us, whence no… So the old tunes float in my mind, And go from me leaving no trace be…
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I’m happy, I’m happy, I saw my love to-day. He came along the crowded street, By all the ladies gay, And oh, he smiled and spoke to me
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“She can’t be unhappy,” you said, “The smiles are like stars in her… And her laughter is thistledown Around her low replies.” “Is she unhappy?” you said—
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From the Woolworth Tower

Vivid with love, eager for greater… Out of the night we come Into the corridor, brilliant and w… A metal door slides open, And the lift receives us.
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I cannot die, who drank delight From the cup of the crescent moon, And hungrily as men eat bread, Loved the scented nights of June. The rest may die—but is there not



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