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At Midnight by Sara Teasdale

8/30/2008 12:56:31 AM

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Sara Teasdale
(1884 - 1933)

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229 poems of Sara Teasdale
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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.

Submitted by Venus

Sara Teasdale

Read poems about / on: laughter, music, house, life, love

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8/30/2008 12:56:31 AM. You Are Here: At Midnight by Sara Teasdale