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I saw her in a Broadway car,
The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light,
And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes,
Tho' love had never made them shine.
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark,
Unwarmed forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me –
His eyes were magic to defy
The woman I shall never be.
Sarah Teasdale
Read poems about / on: woman, magic, car, hair, dark, light, love, women
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Sarah Teasdale
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