Treasure Island

Sara Teasdale

(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

Spray


I knew you thought of me all night,
I knew, though you were far away;
I felt your love blow over me
As if a dark wind-riven sea
Drenched me with quivering spray.

There are so many ways to love
And each way has its own delight --
Then be content to come to me
Only as spray the beating sea
Drives inland through the night.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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