Sara Teasdale

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

The Long Hill - Poem by Sara Teasdale

I must have passed the crest a while ago
And now I am going down--
Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know,
But the brambles were always grabbing at the hem of my gown.

All the morning I thought how proud I should be
To stand there straight as a queen,
Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me--
But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen.

It was nearly level along the beaten track
And the brambles caught in my gown--
But it's no use now to think of turning back,
The rest of the way will be only going down.

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Read poems about / on: wind, sun, world

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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