Treasure Island

Sara Teasdale

(8 August 1884 – 29 January 1933 / Missouri)

Poems of Sara Teasdale

101. Spray 12/31/2002
102. Spring Night 12/31/2002
103. Spring Rain 12/31/2002
104. Spring Torrents 12/31/2002
105. Stars 12/31/2002
106. Summer Night, Riverside 12/31/2002
107. Summer Storm 12/31/2002
108. Sunset: St. Louis 12/31/2002
109. Swans 12/31/2002
110. The Answer 12/31/2002
111. The Coin 12/31/2002
112. The Crystal Gazer 12/31/2002
113. The Flight 12/31/2002
114. The Garden 12/31/2002
115. The Ghost 12/31/2002
116. The Giver 12/31/2002
117. The Kiss 12/31/2002
118. The Lamp 12/31/2002
119. The Long Hill 12/31/2002
120. The Look 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]