Sara Teasdale

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

The Fountain - Poem by Sara Teasdale

Oh in the deep blue night
The fountain sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart
Of a satyr carved in stone.

The fountain sang and sang
But the satyr never stirred--
Only the great white moon
In the empty heaven heard.

The fountain sang and sang
And on the marble rim
The milk-white peacocks slept,
Their dreams were strange and dim.

Bright dew was on the grass,
And on the ilex dew,
The dreamy milk-white birds
Were all a-glisten too.

The fountain sang and sang
The things one cannot tell,
The dreaming peacocks stirred
And the gleaming dew-drops fell.


Comments about The Fountain by Sara Teasdale

  • (11/11/2015 8:05:00 PM)


    ..............so beautiful and dreamy ★ (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: moon, heaven, alone, night, heart, dream, sleep



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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