Sara+Teasdale+Poems

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

You were the wind and I the sea -- There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm And from the tide has found surcease, It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace.

A Winter Night My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro, God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold.

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?

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