Sara Teasdale

(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

Blue Squills - Poem by Sara Teasdale

How many million Aprils came
   Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
   A bed of squills, how blue.

And many a dancing April
   When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
   And the white flame of the tree.

Oh, burn me with your beauty, then,
   Oh, hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
   Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
   O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I through endless sleep
   May bear the scar of you.


Comments about Blue Squills by Sara Teasdale

  • Dawn Fuzan (5/14/2014 3:22:00 AM)


    Nicely written Sara keep it up (Report) Reply

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  • (1/1/2008 11:30:00 PM)


    It is well written as always, in many ways it shows her only friends are the trees and birds and part of life which surronds her, it is sad.

    bonnie
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Read poems about / on: flower, april, tree, beauty, sleep, death, life, dance, wind



Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003



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