Sara Teasdale

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

The Sea Wind - Poem by Sara Teasdale

I am a pool in a peaceful place,
I greet the great sky face to face,
I know the stars and the stately moon
And the wind that runs with rippling shoon--
But why does it always bring to me
The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?

The marsh-grass weaves me a wall of green,
But the wind comes whispering in between,
In the dead of night when the sky is deep
The wind comes waking me out of sleep--
Why does it always bring to me
The far-off, terrible call of the sea?


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Read poems about / on: wind, beautiful, sea, sky, moon, green, sleep, night, running, star



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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