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

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

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

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

[Report Error]