Sara Teasdale

(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

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
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.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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  • Nero Caroziv (6/3/2014 12:43:00 PM)

    To keep me from the peace of those
    Who are not lonely, having died

    A sublime hint for upcoming suicide (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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