Sara Teasdale Poems

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.
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I am free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
Glad to forget all of the passion of April
Ere it was love-free.
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It is not a word spoken,
Few words are said;
Nor even a look of the eyes
Nor a bend of the head,
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Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.
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I think the moon is very kind
To take such trouble just for me.
He came along with me from home
To keep me company.
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Fields beneath a quilt of snow
From which the rocks and stubble sleep,
And in the west a shy white star
That shivers as it wakes from deep.
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I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.
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Hope went by and Peace went by
And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health wnt by
And Love that is their kin.
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The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.
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I went back to the clanging city,
I went back where my old loves stayed,
But my heart was full of my new love's glory,
My eyes were laughing and unafraid.
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