Twilight - Poem by Sara Teasdale
Dreamily over the roofs
The cold spring rain is falling,
Out in the lonely tree
A bird is calling, calling.
Slowly over the earth
The wings of night are falling;
My heart like the bird in the tree
Is calling, calling, calling.
Comments about Twilight by Sara Teasdale
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.