Sara Teasdale - Blog Posts

moonlitmirror

3 years ago

“The moon grows out of the hills A yellow flower, The lake is a dreamy bride Who waits her hour.”

— Sara Teasdale, from Stresa; Rivers to the Sea: Poems, 1915

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poetry literature american literature sara teasdale rivers to the sea

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sanalebihan

5 years ago

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