August Moonrise / Sara Teasdale

August Moonrise

The sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the east was flushed,
And over my head the swallows rushed
This way and that, with changeful wills.
I heard them twitter and watched them dart
Now together and now apart
Like dark petals blown from a tree;
The maples stamped against the west
Were black and stately and full of rest,
And the hazy orange moon grew up
And slowly changed to yellow gold
While the hills were darkened, fold on fold
To a deeper blue than a flower could hold.
Down the hill I went, and then
I forgot the ways of men,
For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool
Wakened ecstasy in me
On the brink of a shining pool.

O Beauty, out of many a cup
You have made me drunk and wild
Ever since I was a child,
But when have I been sure as now
That no bitterness can bend
And no sorrow wholly bow
One who loves you to the end?
And though I must give my breath
And my laughter all to death,
And my eyes through which joy came,
And my heart, a wavering flame;
If all must leave me and go back
Along a blind and fearful track
So that you can make anew,
Fusing with intenser fire,
Something nearer your desire;
If my soul must go alone
Through a cold infinity,
Or even if it vanish, too,
Beauty, I have worshipped you.

Let this single hour atone
For the theft of all of me.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"August Moonrise" read by Wildling Darlings.

May Day / Sara Teasdale

May Day

A delicate fabric of bird song
    Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
    Is everywhere.

Red small leaves of the maple
    Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion
    The pear trees stand.

Oh I must pass nothing by
    Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
    The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure
    I shall see again
The world on the first of May
    Shining after the rain?

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poems are in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"May Day" read by Annie Coleman. Courtesy LibriVox Listtening Library.

May Night / Sara Teasdale

May Night

The spring is fresh and fearless
    And every leaf is new,
The world is brimmed with moonlight,
    The lilac brimmed with dew.

Here in the moving shadows
    I catch my breath and sing –
My heart is fresh and fearless
    And over-brimmed with spring.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Rivers to the Sea, 1915

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

June Night / Sara Teasdale

June Night

Oh Earth, you are too dear to-night,
How can I sleep while all around
Floats rainy fragrance and the far
Deep voice of the ocean that talks to the ground?

Oh Earth, you gave me all I have,
I love you, I love you,— oh what have I
That I can give you in return —
Except my body after I die?

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"June Night" read by Ghizela rowe. Courtesy Ghizela Rowe - Topic.

A Winter Bluejay / Sara Teasdale

A Winter Bluejay

Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
“Oh look!”
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Rivers to the Sea, 1915

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"A Winter Bluejay" read by Dee Ernst. Courtesy Parsippany Library.

2 poems / Sara Teasdale

"I Thought of You"

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
   And walking up the long beach all alone;
I heard the waves, breaking in measured thunder
   As you and I once heard their monotone.

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me
   The cold and sparkling silver of the sea —
We two will pass through death and ages lengthen
   Before you hear that sound again with me.

"I Thought of You" read for Reader's Utopia.

On the Dunes

If there is any life when death is over,
   These tawny beaches will know much of me,
I shall come back, as constant and as changeful
   As the unchanging, many-colored sea.

If life was small, if it has made me scornful,
   Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame
In the great calm of death, and if you want me
   Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poems are in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"On the Dunes" read by Ghizela Rowe. Courtesy Ghizela Rowe - topic.

February Twilight / Sara Teasdale

February Twilight

I stood beside a hill
Smooth with new-laid snow,
A single star looked out
From the cold evening glow.

There was no other creature
That saw what I could see –
I stood and watched the evening star
As long as it watched me.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Dark of the Moon, 1926

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"February Twilight" read for The Poets Library.

There Will Come Soft Rains / Sara Teasdale

There Will Come Soft Rains

(For war time)

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

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933), 1918
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"There Will Come Soft Rains" read & illustrated by Xulin Wang.

Dusk in June / Sara Teasdale

Dusk in June

Evening, and all the birds
In a chorus of shimmering sound
Are easing their hearts of joy
For miles around.

The air is blue and sweet,
The few first stars are white,–
Oh let me like the birds
Sing before night.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Rivers to the Sea, 1915

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Dusk in June" read by Ghizela Rowe. Courtesy Ghizela Rowe - Topic.

Blue Squills / Sara Teasdale

Blue Squills

How many million Aprils came
     Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
     A bed of squills, how blue!

And many a dancing April
     When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
     And the white flame of the tree.

Oh, burn me with your beauty, then,
     Oh, hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
     Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
     O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I through endless sleep
     May bear the scar of you.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Blue Squills" read by The Wordman. Courtesy poemrecital.

Summer Night, Riverside / Sara Teasdale

Summer Night, Riverside

In the wild, soft summer darkness
How many and many a night we two together
Sat in the park and watched the Hudson
Wearing her lights like golden spangles
Glinting on black satin.
The rail along the curving pathway
Was low in a happy place to let us cross,
And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom
Sheltered us,
While your kisses and the flowers,
Falling, falling,
Tangled my hair. . . .

The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.

And now, far off
In the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom,
For June comes back.
To-night what girl
Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair
This year's blossoms, clinging in its coils?

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Love Songs, 1917

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Summer Night, Riverside" read by Simon Howard. Courtesy Dwarven King.

September Midnight / Sara Teasdale

September Midnight

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
       Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
       Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
       Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
       Lest they forget them.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Poetry, March 1914

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"September Midnight" read by Claire. Courtesy MCFL Virtual Programs.

Spring Rain / Sara Teasdale

Spring Rain

I thought I had forgotten,
   But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
   In a rush of rain.

I remembered a darkened doorway
   Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
   And lightning scrawled on the sky.

The passing motor busses swayed,
   For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
   In the lamp light's stain.

With the wild spring rain and thunder
   My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
   Than your lips would ever say. . . .

I thought I had forgotten,
   But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
   In a rush of rain.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Love Songs, 1917

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Spring Rain" music composed and sung by Cat Victoria.

May Wind / Sara Teasdale

May Wind

    I said, "I have shut my heart
As one shuts an open door,
That Love may starve within
And trouble me no more."

    But over the roofs there came
The wet new wind of May,
And a tune blew up from the curb
Where the street-pianos play.

    My room was white with the sun
And Love cried out in me,
"I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free."

~~
Sara Teasdale (1889-1933)
from Love Songs, 1917

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"May Wind" courtesy Aimee Reads Poetry.

The Garden / Sara Teasdale

The Garden

My heart is a garden tired with autumn,
   Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark,
In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April,
   The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark;

Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning,
   And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain —
The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten —
   After the stillness, will spring come again?

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Flame and Shadow, 1920

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"The Garden" courtesy Aimee Reads Poetry.

Christmas Carol / Sara Teasdale

Christmas Carol

The kings they came from out the south,
All dressed in ermine fine;
They bore Him gold and chrysoprase,
And gifts of precious wine.

The shepherds came from out the north,
Their coats were brown and old;
They brought Him little new-born lambs --
They had not any gold.

The wise men came from out the east,
And they were wrapped in white;
The star that led them all the way
Did glorify the night.

The angels came from heaven high,
And they were clad with wings;
And lo, they brought a joyful song
The host of heaven sings.

The kings they knocked upon the door,
The wise men entered in,
The shepherds followed after them
To hear the song begin.

The angels sang through all the night
Until the rising sun,
But little Jesus fell asleep
Before the song was done.

~~
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Helen of Troy, and other poems, 1911

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Christmas Carol" courtesy Mended Maple Poetry.

August Night / Sara Teasdale

August Night

On a midsummer night, on a night that was eerie with stars,
In a wood too deep for a single star to look through,
You led down a path whose turnings you knew in the darkness,
But the scent of the dew-dripping cedars was all that I knew.

I drank of the darkness, I was fed with the honey of fragrance,
I was glad of my life, the drawing of breath was sweet;
I heard your voice, you said, 'Look down, see the glow-worm!'
It was there before me, a small star white at my feet.

We watched while it brightened as though it were breathed on and burning,
This tiny creature moving over earth's floor --
"L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle,"
You said, and no more.

---
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Dark of the Moon, 1926

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

Spring Night / Sara Teasdale

Spring Night

The park is filled with night and fog,
     The veils are drawn about the world,
The drowsy lights along the paths
     Are dim and pearled.

Gold and gleaming the empty streets,
     Gold and gleaming the misty lake,
The mirrored lights like sunken swords,
     Glimmer and shake.

Oh, is it not enought to be
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky.
O, Beauty are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love,
With youth, a singing voice and eyes
To take earth's wonder with surprise?
Why have I put off my pride,
Why am I unsatisfied,—
I for whom the pensive night
Binds her cloudy hair with light,—
I, for whom all beauty burns
Like incense in a million urns?
O, Beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?

---
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Love Songs, 1917

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Spring Night" read by Jan McLauchlan. Courtesy Librivox.

I Am Not Yours / Sara Teasdale

I Am Not Yours

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

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love — put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

---
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Rivers to the Sea, 1915


[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"I Am Not Yours" read for Wildling Darlings.

Wisdom / Sara Teasdale

         
Wisdom

It was a night of early spring,
The winter-sleep was scarcely broken;
Around us shadows and the wind
Listened for what was never spoken.

Though half a score of years are gone,
Spring comes as sharply now as then — 
But if we had it all to do
It would be done the same again.

It was a spring that never came;
But we have lived enough to know
That what we never have, remains;
It is the things we have that go.

---
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
from Dark of the Moon, 1926

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Sara Teasdale biography

"Wisdom" read by Shakira for Librivox. Courtesy Talking Books.