Sara Teasdale

(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

In Spring, Santa Barbara - Poem by Sara Teasdale

I HAVE been happy two weeks together,
My love is coming home to me,
Gold and silver is the weather
And smooth as lapis is the sea.
The earth has turned its brown to green
After three nights of humming rain,
And in the valleys peck and preen
Linnets with a scarlet stain.
High in the mountains all alone
The wild swans whistle on the lakes,
But I have been as still as stone,
My heart sings only when it breaks.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 6, 2010

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