Sara Teasdale

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

The Poor House - Poem by Sara Teasdale

Hope went by and Peace went by
And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health wnt by
And Love that is their kin.

Those within the house shed tears
On their bitter bread;
Some were old and some were mad,
And some were sick a-bed.

Gray Death saw the wretched house
And even he passed by--
"They have never lived," he said,
"They can wait to die."


Comments about The Poor House by Sara Teasdale

  • (2/7/2008 3:50:00 AM)


    This poems brims over with direct guilt and its melody stays to haunt... (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: sick, house, peace, hope, death, love



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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