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. Sara Teasdale More Quotes by Sara Teasdale More Quotes From Sara Teasdale I make the most of all that comes and the least of all that goes. Sara Teasdale heartbrokengratitudehumor Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree Sara Teasdale naturespringanimal Wisdom is not acquired save as the result of investigation. Sara Teasdale investigationresultswisdom 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. Sara Teasdale lightseabeautiful 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. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night. 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. Sara Teasdale starsbeautifullife My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain. Sara Teasdale painbrokensoul No one worth possessing can be quite possessed. Sara Teasdale womenmemorablefriendship Only by love is life made real. Sara Teasdale realmadelove-is 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. Sara Teasdale irritationemotionalspring 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. Sara Teasdale rainspringwar It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise. Sara Teasdale broken-heartwisdomwise O beauty, are you not enough; why am I crying after love. Sara Teasdale crylove-isbeauty Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning, Sara Teasdale nightbeachdeath Oh who can tell the range of joy or set the bounds of beauty? Sara Teasdale joybeautyhappiness One by one, like leaves from a tree, / All my faiths have forsaken me. Sara Teasdale forsakenfaithtree I shall gather myself into my self again, Sara Teasdale self 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. Sara Teasdale lightmoonclouds I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies-- You are my deepening skies; Give me your stars to hold Sara Teasdale sunsetstarssky 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. Sara Teasdale starsstrongsong There is a quiet at the heart of love, And I have pierced the pain and come to peace. Sara Teasdale painheartlove
