Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
To Sappho Ii
Your lines that linger for us down the years,Like sparks that tell the glory of a flame,Still keep alight the splendor of your name,And living still..
© Sara Teasdale
Triolets
Before a lonely shrineOf foam-born Aphrodite,Ungarlanded of vine,Undyed by dripping wine,I brought green bay to twine,And prayed to her, almighty..
© Sara Teasdale
Evening: New York
Blue dust of evening over my city,Over the ocean of roofs and the tall towersWhere the window-lights, myriads and myriads,Bloom from the walls like..
© Sara Teasdale
On A March Day
Here in the teeth of this triumphant windThat shakes the naked shadows on the ground,Making a key-board of the earth to strikeFrom clattering tree..
© Sara Teasdale
The Voice
ATOMS as old as stars,Mutation on mutation,Millions and millions of cellsDividing yet still the same,From air and changing earth,From ancient Eastern..
© Sara Teasdale
The Tree
OH to be free of myself,With nothing left to remember,To have my heart as bareAs a tree in December;Resting, as a tree restsAfter its leaves are..
© Sara Teasdale
The Treasure
WHEN they see my songsThey will sigh and say,'Poor soul, wistful soul,Lonely night and day.'They will never knowAll your love for meSurer than the..
© Sara Teasdale
The Unchanging
SUN-SWEPT beaches with a light wind blowingFrom the immense blue circle of the sea,And the soft thunder where long waves whiten—These were the same..
© Sara Teasdale
The Silent Battle
(In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.)HE was a soldier in that fightWhere there is neither flag nor drum,And without sound of musketryThe stealthy foemen..
© Sara Teasdale
The Wine
I CANNOT die, who drank delightFrom the cup of the crescent moon,And hungrily as men eat bread,Loved the scented nights of June.The rest may die—but..
© Sara Teasdale
The Unseen
DEATH went up the hallUnseen by every one,Trailing twilight robesPast the nurse and the nun.He paused at every doorAnd listened to the breathOf those..
© Sara Teasdale
White Fog
Heaven-invading hills are drownedIn wide moving waves of mist,Phlox before my door are woundIn dripping wreaths of amethyst.Ten feet away the solid..
© Sara Teasdale
The Falling Star
I saw a star slide down the sky,Blinding the north as it went by,Too burning and too quick to hold,Too lovely to be bought or sold,Good only to make..
© Sara Teasdale
To Erinna
Was Time not harsh to you, or was he kind,O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre,That he has left no word of singing fireWhereby you waked the dreaming..
© Sara Teasdale
In Spring, Santa Barbara
I HAVE been happy two weeks together,My love is coming home to me,Gold and silver is the weatherAnd smooth as lapis is the sea.The earth has turned..
© Sara Teasdale
In David's
The dearest child in all the world,Should have the dearest songs,And that is why this little bookTo David-Boy belongs.
© Sara Teasdale
To An Aeolian Harp
The winds have grown articulate in thee,And voiced again the wail of ancient woeThat smote upon the winds of long ago:The cries of Trojan women as..
© Sara Teasdale
To Cleïs
(The daughter of Sappho)When the dusk was wet with dew,Cleïs, did the muses nineListen in a silent lineWhile your mother sang to you?Did they weep or..
© Sara Teasdale
To Rose
Rose, when I remember you,Little lady, scarcely two,I am suddenly awareOf the angels in the air.All your softly gracious waysMake an island in my..
© Sara Teasdale
Nahant
BOWED as an elm under the weight of its beauty,So earth is bowed, under her weight of splendor,Molten sea, richness of leaves and the burnishedBronze..
© Sara Teasdale
To A Castillan Song
We held the book together timidly,Whose antique music in an alien tongueOnce rose among the dew-drenched vines that hungBeneath a high Castilian..
© Sara Teasdale
The Song For Colin
I sang a song at dusking timeBeneath the evening star,And Terence left his latest rhymeTo answer from afar.Pierrot laid down his lute to weep,And..
© Sara Teasdale
To E.
I have remembered beauty in the night,Against black silences I waked to seeA shower of sunlight over ItalyAnd green Ravello dreaming on her height;I..
© Sara Teasdale
In A Garden
THE world is resting without sound or motion,Behind the apple tree the sun goes downPainting with fire the spires and the windowsIn the elm-shaded..
© Sara Teasdale
The Storm
I THOUGHT of you when I was wakenedBy a wind that made me glad and afraidOf the rushing, pouring sound of the seaThat the great trees made.One..
© Sara Teasdale