Sara Teasdale

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

Rispetto - Poem by Sara Teasdale

Was that his step that sounded on the stair?
Was that his knock I heard upon the door?
I grow so tired I almost cease to care,
And yet I would that he might come once more.

It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me,
The bitter wind that is more cruel than he;
It was the wind that knocked upon the door,
But he will never knock nor enter more.


Comments about Rispetto by Sara Teasdale

  • (4/9/2016 7:44:00 AM)


    .......wonderful and imaginative ★ (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: wind



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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