To Cleïs - Poem by Sara Teasdale
(The daughter of Sappho)
When the dusk was wet with dew,
Cleïs, did the muses nine
Listen in a silent line
While your mother sang to you?
Did they weep or did they smile
When she crooned to still your cries,
She, a muse in human guise
Who forsook her lyre awhile
Did you hear her wild heart beat?
Did the warmth of all the sun
Through your little body run
When she kissed your hands and feet?
Did your fingers, babywise,
Touch her face and touch her hair
Did you think your mother fair,
Could you bear her burning eyes?
Are the songs that soothed your fears
Vanished like a vanished flame,
Save the line where shines your name
Starlike down the graying years? . . .
Cleis speaks no word to me,
For the land where she has gone
Lies as still at dusk and dawn,
As a windless, tideless sea.
Comments about To Cleïs by Sara Teasdale
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You