Sara Teasdale

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

The Blind - Poem by Sara Teasdale

The birds are all a-building,
They say the world's a-flower,
And still I linger lonely
Within a barren bower.

I weave a web of fancies
Of tears and darkness spun.
How shall I sing of sunlight
Who never saw the sun?

I hear the pipes a-blowing,
But yet I may not dance,
I know that Love is passing,
I cannot catch his glance.

And if his voice should call me
And I with groping dim
Should reach his place of calling
And stretch my arms to him,

The wind would blow between my hands
For Joy that I shall miss,
The rain would fall upon my mouth
That his will never kiss.


Comments about The Blind by Sara Teasdale

  • (11/11/2015 7:44:00 PM)


    .....very poetic, a wonderful poem ★ (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: dance, flower, lonely, kiss, rain, joy, wind, sun, world



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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