Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdalewas 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...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth8 August 1884
CitySt. Louis, MO
CountryUnited States of America
frail life moth web
Life is a frail moth flyingCaught in the web of the years that pass.
half life
There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done...inexorably, unalterably done.
spring waiting world
A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.
heartbroken gratitude humor
I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes.
spring bird tree
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
sadness joy sorrow
I found more joy in sorrow than you could find in joy.
love pain heart
There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.
grief heart blow
The grass is waking in the ground, / Soon it will rise and blow in waves - / How can it have the heart to sway / Over the graves, / New graves?
tired heart autumn
My heart is a garden tired with autumn.
broken-heart wise wisdom
It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise.
memorable possessed possessing
No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.
beach missing-someone sea
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.
moon light clouds
Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,/ In the dawn clouds flying,/ How good to go, light into light, and still/ Giving light, dying.
tired autumn years
The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die...