Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

April 2006 (In Memoriam Sarah Teasdale) - Poem by Anthony Weir

What do I care in the cold winds and languor of spring
That my face and my frame are not I?
They are just furniture, but my poems are what I feel,
I am a vacuum, they are a cry.

Why should I care? My life will soon finish
And the world that was will be holocaust, flood and drought.
My heart is a birth-wound, my mind a protest, a shout,
And only at death will their pain and their noise diminish.

Through the years I have learned
How few men and ideas are worthy of trust.
I have seen my greatest love
Murdered, trampled in the dust,
And fears I never knew before
Burrow into my heart's core.
Hope little. Ask for less.
Who dares to talk of happiness!


Comments about April 2006 (In Memoriam Sarah Teasdale) by Anthony Weir

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 20, 2006



[Report Error]