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Sara Teasdale

(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

Poems of Sara Teasdale

21. Alone 12/31/2002
22. April 12/31/2002
23. April Song 12/31/2002
24. Arcturus 12/31/2002
25. At Midnight 12/31/2002
26. At Night 12/31/2002
27. At Sea 12/31/2002
28. August Moonrise 12/31/2002
29. Barter 12/31/2002
30. Because 12/31/2002
31. Buried Love 12/31/2002
32. But Not To Me 12/31/2002
33. Change 12/31/2002
34. Child, Child 12/31/2002
35. Come 12/31/2002
36. Compensation 12/31/2002
37. Debt 12/31/2002
38. Debtor 12/31/2002
39. Dew 12/31/2002
40. Doubt 12/31/2002

Dust

When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire --
But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.

I almost gave my life long ago for a thing
That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes --
It is strange how often a heart must be broken
Before the years can make it wise.

[Hata Bildir]