Sara Teasdale

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

For The Anniversary Of John Keats' Death - Poem by Sara Teasdale

At midnight, when the moonlit cypress trees
Have woven round his grave a magic shade,
Still weeping the unfinished hymn he made,
There moves fresh Maia, like a morning breeze
Blown over jonquil beds when warm rains cease.
And stooping where her poet's head is laid,
Selene weeps, while all the tides are stayed,
And swaying seas are darkened into peace.
But they who wake the meadows and the tides
Have hearts too kind to bid him wake from sleep,
Who murmurs sometimes when his dreams are deep,
Startling the Quiet Land where he abides,
And charming still sad-eyed Persephone
With visions of the sunny earth and sea.


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Read poems about / on: magic, sometimes, sad, peace, sleep, sea, anniversary, death, dream, rain, tree



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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