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Sara Teasdale Poetry

Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914. Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. She had such poor health for so much of her childho... Read More

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IN the pull of the wind I stand, lonely,
On the deck of a ship, rising, falling,
Wild night around

Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
And make hi

Two knights rode forth at early dawn
A-seeking maids to wed,
Said one, "My lady must be fair,

Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the

When I am dying, let me know
That I loved the blowing snow
Although it stung like whips;
That I l

THE sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
Thi

Now while my lips are living
Their words must stay unsaid,
And will my soul remember
To speak

Send out the singers -- let the room be still;
They have not eased my pain nor brought me sleep.

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lo

The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April gr

Across the dimly lighted room
The violin drew wefts of sound,
Airily they wove and wound
And g

A little while when I am gone
My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne o

ARCTURUS brings the spring back
As surely now as when
He rose on eastern islands
For Grecian girl

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the

There! See the line of lights,
A chain of stars down either side the street --
Why can't you lift

There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
S

Oh, because you never tried
To bow my will or break my pride,
And nothing of the cave-man made
Yo

Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be

The princess has her lovers,
A score of knights has she,
And each can sing a madrigal,
And pra

We are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her ey

Her voice is like clear water
That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
Where Quiet pl

The wide, bright temple of the world I found,
And entered from the dizzy infinite
That I might k

OUT of the noise of tired people working,
Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,
His beau

There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

Oh would I were the roses, that lie against her hands,
The heavy burning roses she touches as she s

I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give—
In spite of all your tenderness,

I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
A

Oh I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and

Willow in your April gown
Delicate and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?

Sara Teasdale Poetry

Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914. Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. She had such poor health for so much of her childhood, home schooled until age 9, that it was only at age 10 that she was well enough to begin school. She started at Mary Institute in 1898, but switched to Hosmer Hall in 1899, graduating in 1903. The Teasdale family resided at 3668 Lindell Blvd. and then 38 Kingsbury Place in St. Louis, Missouri. Both homes were designed by Sara's mother. The house on Kingsbury Place had a private suite for Sara on the second floor. Guests entered through a separate entrance and were admitted by appointment. This suite is where Sara worked, slept, and often dined alone. Teasdale's first poem was published in William Marion Reedy's Reedy's Mirror, a local newspaper, in 1907. Her first collection of poems, Sonnets to Duse and Other Poems, was published that same year. Teasdale's second collection, Helen of Troy and Other Poems, was published in 1911. It was well received by critics, who praised its lyrical mastery and romantic subject matter. From 1911 to 1914 Teasdale was courted by several men, including the poet Vachel Lindsay, who was truly in love with her but did not feel that he could provide enough money or stability to keep her satisfied. She chose to marry Ernst Filsinger, a longtime admirer of her poetry, on December 19, 1914. Teasdale's third poetry collection, Rivers to the Sea, was published in 1915. It was and is a bestseller, being reprinted several times. In 1916 she and Filsinger moved to New York City, where they lived in an Upper West Side apartment on Central Park West. In 1918 she won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1917 poetry collection Love Songs. It was "made possible by a special grant from The Poetry Society"; however, the sponsoring organization now lists it as the earliest Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (inaugurated 1922). Filsinger's constant business travel caused Teasdale much loneliness. In 1929, she moved interstate for three months, thereby satisfying the criteria to gain a divorce. She did not wish to inform Filsinger, only doing so at her lawyers' insistence as the divorce was going through. Filsinger was shocked. After the divorce she moved only two blocks from her old home on Central Park West. She rekindled her friendship with Vachel Lindsay, who was now married with children. In 1933, she died by suicide, overdosing on sleeping pills. Lindsay had died by suicide two years earlier. She is interred in Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis... Read More