Sara Teasdale

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

Wild Asters - Poem by Sara Teasdale

In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
Always knew.

Now the fields are brown and barren,
Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
Not one knows.


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Read poems about / on: autumn, spring



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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