Summer Night, Riverside (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
Summer Night, Riverside
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

In the wild soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
Glinting on black satin.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
Sheltered us
While your kisses and the flowers,
Falling, falling,
Tangled my hair. . . .

The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.

And now, far off
In the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom
For June comes back.

To-night what girl
When she goes home,
Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair
This year’s blossoms, clinging in its coils?

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Enough (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
Enough
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

It is enough for me by day
     To walk the same bright earth with him;
Enough that over us by night
     The same great roof of stars is dim.

I have no care to bind the wind
     Or set a fetter on the sea–
It is enough to feel his love
     Blow by like music over me.

* * * * *

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Moods (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
Moods
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

I am the still rain falling,
     Too tired for singing mirth–
Oh, be the green fields calling,
     Oh, be for me the earth!

I am the brown bird pining
     To leave the nest and fly–
Oh, be the fresh cloud shining,
     Oh, be for me the sky!

* * * * *

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At Night (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
At Night
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
    She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
    Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.

Oh are you asleep, or Iying awake, my lover?
    Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words,
I send you my thoughts–the air between us is laden,
    My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.

* * * * *

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The Look (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
The Look
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

Strephon kissed me in the spring,
    Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
    And never kissed at all.

Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,
    Robin’s lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin’s eyes
    Haunts me night and day.

* * * * *

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The Shrine (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
The Shrine
from Helen of Troy and Other Poems [New York: G.P. Putnam, 1911]

There is no lord within my heart,
    Left silent as an empty shrine
    Where rose and myrtle intertwine,
Within a place apart.

No god is there of carven stone
    To watch with still approving eyes
    My thoughts like steady incense rise;
I dream and weep alone.

But if I keep my altar fair,
    Some morning I shall lift my head
    From roses deftly garlanded
To find the god is there.

* * *

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I Shall Not Care (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933

I Shall Not Care
from Rivers to the Sea [New York: Macmillan 1915]

When I am dead and over me bright April
    Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though 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.

* * *

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I Am Not Yours (by Sara Teasdale)

Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933

I Am Not Yours

I am not yours, not 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.

Oh plunge me deep in love — put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.


* * *

More by Sara Teasdale is available through Amazon.com