67 Sara Teasdale Quotes

Sara Teasdale quotes

1. This is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead That sparkled so the day I saw it first, And darkened slowly after. I am she Who loves all beauty - yet I wither it.

2. My dreams are over, I have ceased to cry Against the fate that made men love my mouth And left their spirits all too deaf to hear The little songs that echoed through my soul. I have no anger now. The dreams are done; Yet since the Greeks and Trojans would not see Aught but my body's fairness, till the end, In all the islands set in all the seas, And all the lands that lie beneath the sun, Till light turn darkness, and till time shall sleep, Men's lives shall waste with longing after me, For I shall be the sum of their desire, The whole of beauty, never seen again.

3. And as I played, a child came thro' the gate, A boy who looked at me without a word, As tho' he saw stretch far behind my head Long lines of radiant angels, row on row. That day we spoke a little, timidly, And after that I never heard the voice That sang so many songs for love of me.

4. Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more To thee, God's daughter, powerful as God, It is that thou hast made my life too sweet To hold the added sweetness of a song. There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace.

5. We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine, To think upon her sorrows, but her joys What nun could ever know a tithing of? The precious hours she watched above His sleep Were worth the fearful anguish of the end. Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all.

6. All this grows bitter that was once so sweet, And many mouths must drain the dregs of it. But none will pity me, nor pity him Whom Love so lashed, and with such cruel thongs.

7. Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love - But you will not assuage him. He alone Of all the gods will take no gifts from men.

8. I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim, The god is bitter and will have it so.

9. I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes.

10. Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand. I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold - It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old. Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose.

11. For tho' I know he loves me, To-night my heart is sad; His kiss was not so wonderful As all the dreams I had.

12. With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the street-lamps' flare - But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union Square.

13. There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything - Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring.

14. I hope that when he smiles at me He does not guess my joy and pain, For if he did, he is too kind To ever look my way again.

15. The greenish sky glows up in misty reds, The purple shadows turn to brick and stone, The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds, And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone.

16. Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. Oh, beauty are you not enough?

17. Oh, beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love?

18. I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies,- You are my deepening skies, Give me your stars to hold.

19. When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough, And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now.

20. But oh, to him I loved Who loved me not at all, I owe the little open gate That led thru heaven's wall.

21. How should they know that Sappho lived and died Faithful to love, not faithful to the lover, Never transfused and lost in what she loved, Never so wholly loving nor at peace.

22. I have grown weary of the winds of heaven. I will not be a reed to hold the sound Of whatsoever breath the gods may blow, Turning my torment into music for them. They gave me life; the gift was bountiful, I lived with the swift singing strength of fire, Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel - Beauty in all things and in every hour. The gods have given life - I gave them song; The debt is paid and now I turn to go.

23. Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup.

24. Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

25. But I will turn my eyes from you As women turn to put away The jewels they have worn at night And cannot wear in sober day.

26. If I can find out God, then I shall find Him, If none can find Him, then I shall sleep soundly, Knowing how well on earth your love sufficed me, A lamp in darkness.

27. I try to catch at many a tune Like petals of light fallen from the moon, Broken and bright on a dark lagoon, But they float away - for who can hold Youth, or perfume or the moon's gold?

28. 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 As lovely and as full of light, As hushed and brief as a falling star On a winter night.

29. But you I never understood, Your spirit's secret hides like gold Sunk in a Spanish galleon Ages ago in waters cold.

30. It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks.

31. O lovely chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul, But by your grace, still I am whole.

32. 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.

33. Two thousand years - much has gone by forever, Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men - But here on the beaches that time passes over The heart aches now as then.

34. Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, I love you, I love you, - oh what have I That I can give you in return - Except my body after I die?

35. The window-lights, myriads and myriads, Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers.

36. 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.

37. If I am peaceful, I shall see Beauty's face continually; Feeding on her wine and bread I shall be wholly comforted, For she can make one day for me Rich as my lost eternity.

1. What we have never had, remains; It is the things we have that go.

2. I saw above a sea of hills A solitary planet shine, And there was no one, near or far, to keep the world from being mine.

3. There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. 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.

4. I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was not other creature That saw what I could see, I stood and watched the evening star As long as it watched me.

5. Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars,All things are changed, save in the east,The faithful beauty of the stars.

6. From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.

7. 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.

8. The roofs are shining from the rain, The sparrows twitter as they fly, And with a windy April grace The little clouds go by. Yet the back yards are bare and brown With only one unchanging tree- I could not be so sure of Spring Save that it sings in me.

9. It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes;The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks.

10. 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.

11. Of my own spirit let me be in sole though feeble mastery.

12. I shall gather myself into my self again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.

13. No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

14. I could not be so sure of Spring / Save that it sings in me.

15. Spend all you have for loveliness.

16. Faults They came to tell your faults to me, They named them over one by one; I laughed aloud when they were done, I knew them all so well before,-- Oh, they were blind, too blind to see Your faults had made me love you more.

17. Call him wise whose actions, words, and steps are all a clear because to a clear why.

18. My theory is that poems are written because of a state of emotional irritation. It may be present for some time before the poet is conscious of what is tormenting him. The emotional irritation springs, probably, from subconscious combinations of partly forgotten thoughts and feelings. Coming together, like electrical currents in a thunder storm, they produce a poem. ... the poem is written to free the poet from an emotional burden.

19. Oh who can tell the range of joy or set the bounds of beauty?

20. The leaves fall patiently Nothing remembers or grieves The river takes to the sea The yellow drift of leaves.

21. SONG You bound strong sandals on my feet, You gave me bread and wine, And sent me under sun and stars, For all the world was mine. Oh, take the sandals off my feet, You know not what you do, For all my world is in your arms, My sun and stars are you.

22. For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.

23. The wind is tossing the lilacs, The new leaves laugh in the sun, And the petals fall on the orchard wall, But for me the spring is done. Beneath the apple blossoms I go a wintry way, For love that smiled in April Is false to me in May.

24. Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.

25. I am not yours, nor 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.

26. The world is tired, the year is old, The faded leaves are glad to die...

27. Oh to be free of myself, With nothing left to remember, To have my heart as bare As a tree in December; Resting, as a tree rests After its leaves are gone, Waiting no more for a rain at night Nor for the red at dawn.

28. My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain - The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten - After the stillness, will spring come again?

29. Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass.

30. Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning, We will come back to earth some fragrant night, And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. We will come down at night to these resounding beaches And the long gentle thunder of the sea, Here for a single hour in the wide starlight We shall be happy, for the dead are free.