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Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale

At Midnight

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.
 
Even love that I built my spirit’s house for,
Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest,
And music and men’s praise and even laughter
Are not so good as rest.

#AmericanWriters

Other works by Sara Teasdale...
February Twilight

I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was no other creature
Wisdom

When I have ceased to break my wi… Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate, When I have looked Life in the ey…
Alone

I am alone, in spite of love, In spite of all I take and give’€… In spite of all your tenderness, Sometimes I am not glad to live. I am alone, as though I stood
Jewels

If I should see your eyes again, I know how far their look would go… Back to a morning in the park With sapphire shadows on the snow. Or back to oak trees in the spring
 1
Evening: New York

Blue dust of evening over my city, Over the ocean of roofs and the ta… Where the window-lights, myriads a… Bloom from the walls like climbing…
Old Love and New

In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things
I Have Loved Hours at Sea

I have loved hours at sea, gray ci… The fragile secret of a flower, Music, the making of a poem That gave me heaven for an hour; First stars above a snowy hill,
 1
The Silent Battle

(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.) HE was a soldier in that fight Where there is neither flag nor dr… And without sound of musketry The stealthy foemen come.
The Broken Field

My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain. Where grass and bending flowers
 1
To a Picture of Eleanor Duse

Was ever any face like this before… So light a veiling for the soul wi… So pure and yet so pitiful for sin… They say the soul will pass the H… And yearning upward, learn creatio…
A Little While

A little while when I am gone My life will live in music after m… As spun foam lifted and borne on After the wave is lost in the full… A while these nights and days will…
A Fantasy

Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus
Child, Child

Child, child, love while you can The voice and the eyes and the sou… Never fear though it break your he… Out of the wound new joy will star… Only love proudly and gladly and w…
Blue Squills

How many million Aprils came    Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be,    A bed of squills, how blue. And many a dancing April
The Lights of New York

The lightning spun your garment fo… Of silver filaments with fire shot… A broidery of lamps that lit for y… The steadfast splendor of enduring… The moon drifts dimly in the heave…



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