Orbler
Byron Twain
Brenton
Dexter
Jeanne Dininni
Shilpa KarhikEmbers by Sara Teasdale
August 8th 2006 00:11
EMBERS
by Sara Teasdale
I said, "My youth is gone
Like a fire beaten out by the rain,
That will never sway and sing
Or play with the wind again."
I said, "It is no great sorrow
That quenched my youth in me,
But only little sorrows
Beating ceaselessly."
I thought my youth was gone,
But you returned--
Like a flame at the call of the wind
It leaped and burned;
Threw off its ashen cloak,
And gowned anew
Gave itself like a bride
Once more to you.
If you'd like to read some earlier Sara Teasdale poems in this blog, you can click here, here and here.
by Sara Teasdale
I said, "My youth is gone
Like a fire beaten out by the rain,
That will never sway and sing
Or play with the wind again."
I said, "It is no great sorrow
That quenched my youth in me,
But only little sorrows
Beating ceaselessly."
I thought my youth was gone,
But you returned--
Like a flame at the call of the wind
It leaped and burned;
Threw off its ashen cloak,
And gowned anew
Gave itself like a bride
Once more to you.
If you'd like to read some earlier Sara Teasdale poems in this blog, you can click here, here and here.
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