Sara Teasdale

(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

Dew


As dew leaves the cobweb lightly
Threaded with stars,
Scattering jewels on the fence
And the pasture bars;
As dawn leaves the dry grass bright
And the tangled weeds
Bearing a rainbow gem
On each of their seeds;
So has your love, my lover,
Fresh as the dawn,
Made me a shining road
To travel on,
Set every common sight
Of tree or stone
Delicately alight
For me alone.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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  • S Imam (8/13/2006 8:13:00 AM)

    I like to see the early morning dew: I enjoyed this poem for its observation of the same. (Report) Reply

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