In Chicago, Sarah found support for her works due to the acquaintance with a magazine of Poetry of Harriet Monroe. The year brought her a victory in the Poetry Society of the Columbia university. Afterwards, this award was converted into the Pulitzer Prize. Until the end of her life, the poetess edited three more books of her verses: The poetess was a very attractive woman and did not experience lack in admirers.
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Besides, in her sexual addictions, she shared interest not only in an opposite sex. The works of the poetess are admired by people all over the world. They show us, what a lovely person Teasdale was, and how much she appreciated the beautiful things about life.
Her love for beautiful things is reflected in her poetry. She was a very talented poet, and we are glad she shared her talent with ordinary people. Search in the poems of Sara Teasdale: Comments about Sara Teasdale. Best Poem of Sara Teasdale. Advice To A Girl No one worth possessing Can be quite possessed; Lay that on your heart, My young angry dear; This truth, this hard and precious stone, Lay it on your hot cheek, Let it hide your tear.
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Biography of Sara Teasdale
All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge To Eleonora Duse Ii. To Eleonora Duse In. To Eleonora Duse I. If you have forgotten water lilies floating On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade, If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance, Then you can return and not be afraid. But if you remember, then turn away forever To the plains and the prairies where pools are far apart, There you will not come at dusk on closing water lilies, And the shadow of mountains will not fall on your heart.
I Shall Not Care. When I am dead and over me bright April Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, Though you shall lean above me broken-hearted, I shall not care.
Biography of Sara Teasdale
I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough; And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted Than you are now. Since There Is No Escape.
Since there is no escape, since at the end My body will be utterly destroyed, This hand I love as I have loved a friend, This body I tended, wept with and enjoyed; Since there is no escape even for me Who love life with a love too sharp to bear: The scent of orchards in the rain, the sea And hours alone too still and sure for prayer — Since darkness waits for me, then all the more Let me go down as waves sweep to the shore In pride; and let me sing with my last breath; In these few hours of light I lift my head; Life is my lover—I shall leave the dead If there is any way to baffle death.
Love in my heart was a fresh tide flowing Where the starlike sea gulls soar; The sun was keen and the foam was blowing High on the rocky shore. But now in the dusk the tide is turning, Lower the sea gulls soar, And the waves that rose in resistless yearning Are broken forevermore. If I could have your arms tonight— But half the world and the broken sea Lie between you and me. The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard, Beating all night against the barren stone, The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard Makes me more alone.
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If you were here, if you were only here— My blood cries out to you all night in vain As sleepless as the rain. In A Cuban Garden. Hibiscus flowers are cups of fire, Love me, my lover, life will not stay The bright poinsettia shakes in the wind, A scarlet leaf is blowing away. A lizard lifts his head and listens — Kiss me before the noon goes by, Here in the shade of the ceiba hide me From the great black vulture circling the sky. The Dreams Of My Heart. The dreams of my heart and my mind pass, Nothing stays with me long, But I have had from a child The deep solace of song; If that should ever leave me, Let me find death and stay With things whose tunes are played out and forgotten Like the rain of yesterday.
Sara Teasdale: Poems - Hello Poetry
Two Songs For Solitude: I shall gather myself into myself again, I shall take my scattered selves and make them one, I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun. I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent, Watching the future come and the present go— And the little shifting pictures of people rushing In tiny self-importance to and fro. There Will Come Soft Rains.
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. Peace flows into me As the tide to the pool by the shore; It is mine forevermore, It ebbs not back like the sea.
I am the pool of blue That worships the vivid sky; My hopes were heaven-high, They are all fulfilled in you. I am the pool of gold When sunset burns and dies, — You are my deepening skies, Give me your stars to hold. I hoped that he would love me, And he has kissed my mouth, But I am like a stricken bird That cannot reach the south. The darkened street was muffled with the snow, The falling flakes had made your shoulders white, And when we found a shelter from the night Its glamor fell upon us like a blow.
The clash of dishes and the viol and bow Mingled beneath the fever of the light. The heat was full of savors, and the bright Laughter of women lured the wine to flow. A little child ate nothing while she sat Watching a woman at a table there Learn to kiss beneath a drooping hat.
I Am Not Yours.
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