To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me--
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive, shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart--
Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.
written by Sara Teasdale, published on Mon 01.10.2011 at 14:23
How many million Aprils came
Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
A bed of squills, how blue.
written by Sara Teasdale, published on Tue 12.28.2010 at 07:54
Fields beneath a quilt of snow
From which the rocks and stubble sleep,
And in the west a shy white star
written by Sara Teasdale, published on Sat 12.04.2010 at 01:56
I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.
written by Sara Teasdale, published on Fri 12.03.2010 at 01:16
If he could know my songs are all for him,
At silver dawn or in the evening glow,
Would he not smile and think it but a whim,
written by Sara Teasdale, published on Wed 12.01.2010 at 13:30
Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
And make his casement fine.