Sara Teasdale

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

Coney Island - Poem by Sara Teasdale

Why did you bring me here?
The sand is white with snow,
Over the wooden domes
The winter sea-winds blow--
There is no shelter near,
Come, let us go.

With foam of icy lace
The sea creeps up the sand,
The wind is like a hand
That strikes us in the face.
Doors that June set a-swing
Are bolted long ago;
We try them uselessly--
Alas there cannot be
For us a second spring;
Come, let us go.


Comments about Coney Island by Sara Teasdale

  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (12/24/2015 12:21:00 AM)


    We try them uselessly-
    Alas there cannot be
    For us a second spring;
    Come, let us go.
    (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: june, winter, snow, spring, sea, wind



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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