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@@ -0,0 +1,2106 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Songs, by Sara Teasdale + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Love Songs + +Author: Sara Teasdale + +Posting Date: July 21, 2008 [EBook #442] +Release Date: February, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE SONGS *** + + + + +Produced by A. Light and L. Bowser. For Gwenette. + + + + + + + + +[Note on text: Italicized stanzas are indented 5 spaces. Two +italicized lines are marked by asterisks (*). Lines longer than 78 +characters are broken, and the continuation is indented two spaces.] + +[This etext was transcribed from a 1918 reprinting of the 1917 edition, +which was the original. It is interesting that some of those poems +included from earlier volumes have been slightly changed in this book.] + + + + + + +Love Songs + + +By + +Sara Teasdale + +[American (Missouri & New York) poet, 1884-1933.] + + + +Author of "Rivers to the Sea", "Helen of Troy and Other Poems", Etc. + + + + + To E. + + + I have remembered beauty in the night, + Against black silences I waked to see + A shower of sunlight over Italy + And green Ravello dreaming on her height; + I have remembered music in the dark, + The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach's, + And running water singing on the rocks + When once in English woods I heard a lark. + + But all remembered beauty is no more + Than a vague prelude to the thought of you-- + You are the rarest soul I ever knew, + Lover of beauty, knightliest and best; + My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore, + And when I think of you, I am at rest. + + + + + + +Prefatory Note + + + +Beside new poems, this book contains lyrics taken from "Rivers to the +Sea", "Helen of Troy and Other Poems", and one or two from an earlier +volume. + + + + + Contents + + + + I + + Barter + Twilight + Night Song at Amalfi + The Look + A Winter Night + A Cry + Gifts + But Not to Me + Song at Capri + Child, Child + Love Me + Pierrot + Wild Asters + The Song for Colin + Four Winds + Debt + Faults + Buried Love + The Fountain + I Shall Not Care + After Parting + A Prayer + Spring Night + May Wind + Tides + After Love + New Love and Old + The Kiss + Swans + The River + November + Spring Rain + The Ghost + Summer Night, Riverside + Jewels + + + II + + Interlude: Songs out of Sorrow + + I. Spirit's House + II. Mastery + III. Lessons + IV. Wisdom + V. In a Burying Ground + VI. Wood Song + VII. Refuge + + + III + + The Flight + Dew + To-night + Ebb Tide + I Would Live in Your Love + Because + The Tree of Song + The Giver + April Song + The Wanderer + The Years + Enough + Come + Joy + Riches + Dusk in War Time + Peace + Moods + Houses of Dreams + Lights + "I Am Not Yours" + Doubt + The Wind + Morning + Other Men + Embers + Message + The Lamp + + + IV + + A November Night + + + + + Love Songs + + + I + + + + Barter + + + Life has loveliness to sell, + All beautiful and splendid things, + Blue waves whitened on a cliff, + Soaring fire that sways and sings, + And children's faces looking up + Holding wonder like a cup. + + Life has loveliness to sell, + Music like a curve of gold, + Scent of pine trees in the rain, + Eyes that love you, arms that hold, + And for your spirit's still delight, + Holy thoughts that star the night. + + Spend all you have for loveliness, + Buy it and never count the cost; + For one white singing hour of peace + Count many a year of strife well lost, + And for a breath of ecstasy + Give all you have been, or could be. + + + + + Twilight + + + Dreamily over the roofs + The cold spring rain is falling; + Out in the lonely tree + A bird is calling, calling. + + Slowly over the earth + The wings of night are falling; + My heart like the bird in the tree + Is calling, calling, calling. + + + + + Night Song at Amalfi + + + I asked the heaven of stars + What I should give my love-- + It answered me with silence, + Silence above. + + I asked the darkened sea + Down where the fishers go-- + It answered me with silence, + Silence below. + + Oh, I could give him weeping, + Or I could give him song-- + But how can I give silence, + My whole life long? + + + + + The Look + + + Strephon kissed me in the spring, + Robin in the fall, + But Colin only looked at me + And never kissed at all. + + Strephon's kiss was lost in jest, + Robin's lost in play, + But the kiss in Colin's eyes + Haunts me night and day. + + + + + 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. + + + + + A Cry + + + Oh, there are eyes that he can see, + And hands to make his hands rejoice, + But to my lover I must be + Only a voice. + + Oh, there are breasts to bear his head, + And lips whereon his lips can lie, + But I must be till I am dead + Only a cry. + + + + + Gifts + + + I gave my first love laughter, + I gave my second tears, + I gave my third love silence + Through all the years. + + My first love gave me singing, + My second eyes to see, + But oh, it was my third love + Who gave my soul to me. + + + + + But Not to Me + + + The April night is still and sweet + With flowers on every tree; + Peace comes to them on quiet feet, + But not to me. + + My peace is hidden in his breast + Where I shall never be; + Love comes to-night to all the rest, + But not to me. + + + + + Song at Capri + + + When beauty grows too great to bear + How shall I ease me of its ache, + For beauty more than bitterness + Makes the heart break. + + Now while I watch the dreaming sea + With isles like flowers against her breast, + Only one voice in all the world + Could give me rest. + + + + + Child, Child + + + Child, child, love while you can + The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man; + Never fear though it break your heart-- + Out of the wound new joy will start; + Only love proudly and gladly and well, + Though love be heaven or love be hell. + + Child, child, love while you may, + For life is short as a happy day; + Never fear the thing you feel-- + Only by love is life made real; + Love, for the deadly sins are seven, + Only through love will you enter heaven. + + + + + Love Me + + + Brown-thrush singing all day long + In the leaves above me, + Take my love this April song, + "Love me, love me, love me!" + + When he harkens what you say, + Bid him, lest he miss me, + Leave his work or leave his play, + And kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! + + + + + Pierrot + + + Pierrot stands in the garden + Beneath a waning moon, + And on his lute he fashions + A fragile silver tune. + + Pierrot plays in the garden, + He thinks he plays for me, + But I am quite forgotten + Under the cherry tree. + + Pierrot plays in the garden, + And all the roses know + That Pierrot loves his music,-- + But I love Pierrot. + + + + + Wild Asters + + + In the spring I asked the daisies + If his words were true, + And the clever, clear-eyed daisies + Always knew. + + Now the fields are brown and barren, + Bitter autumn blows, + And of all the stupid asters + Not one knows. + + + + + The Song for Colin + + + I sang a song at dusking time + Beneath the evening star, + And Terence left his latest rhyme + To answer from afar. + + Pierrot laid down his lute to weep, + And sighed, "She sings for me." + But Colin slept a careless sleep + Beneath an apple tree. + + + + + Four Winds + + + "Four winds blowing through the sky, + You have seen poor maidens die, + Tell me then what I shall do + That my lover may be true." + Said the wind from out the south, + "Lay no kiss upon his mouth," + And the wind from out the west, + "Wound the heart within his breast," + And the wind from out the east, + "Send him empty from the feast," + And the wind from out the north, + "In the tempest thrust him forth; + When thou art more cruel than he, + Then will Love be kind to thee." + + + + + Debt + + + What do I owe to you + Who loved me deep and long? + You never gave my spirit wings + Or gave my heart a song. + + But oh, to him I loved, + Who loved me not at all, + I owe the open gate + That led through heaven's wall. + + + + + Faults + + + They came to tell your faults to me, + They named them over one by one; + I laughed aloud when they were done, + I knew them all so well before,-- + Oh, they were blind, too blind to see + Your faults had made me love you more. + + + + + Buried Love + + + I have come to bury Love + Beneath a tree, + In the forest tall and black + Where none can see. + + I shall put no flowers at his head, + Nor stone at his feet, + For the mouth I loved so much + Was bittersweet. + + I shall go no more to his grave, + For the woods are cold. + I shall gather as much of joy + As my hands can hold. + + I shall stay all day in the sun + Where the wide winds blow,-- + But oh, I shall cry at night + When none will know. + + + + + The Fountain + + + All through the deep blue night + The fountain sang alone; + It sang to the drowsy heart + Of the satyr carved in stone. + + The fountain sang and sang, + But the satyr never stirred-- + Only the great white moon + In the empty heaven heard. + + The fountain sang and sang + While on the marble rim + The milk-white peacocks slept, + And their dreams were strange and dim. + + Bright dew was on the grass, + And on the ilex, dew, + The dreamy milk-white birds + Were all a-glisten, too. + + The fountain sang and sang + The things one cannot tell; + The dreaming peacocks stirred + And the gleaming dew-drops fell. + + + + + I Shall Not Care + + + When I am dead and over me bright April + Shakes out her rain-drenched hair, + Though you should lean above me broken-hearted, + I shall not care. + + 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. + + + + + After Parting + + + Oh, I have sown my love so wide + That he will find it everywhere; + It will awake him in the night, + It will enfold him in the air. + + I set my shadow in his sight + And I have winged it with desire, + That it may be a cloud by day, + And in the night a shaft of fire. + + + + + A Prayer + + + Until I lose my soul and lie + Blind to the beauty of the earth, + Deaf though shouting wind goes by, + Dumb in a storm of mirth; + + Until my heart is quenched at length + And I have left the land of men, + Oh, let me love with all my strength + Careless if I am loved again. + + + + + 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 enough 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? + + + + + May Wind + + + I said, "I have shut my heart + As one shuts an open door, + That Love may starve therein + 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." + + + + + Tides + + + 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. + + + + + 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. + + + + + New Love and Old + + + In my heart the old love + Struggled with the new; + It was ghostly waking + All night through. + + Dear things, kind things, + That my old love said, + Ranged themselves reproachfully + Round my bed. + + But I could not heed them, + For I seemed to see + The eyes of my new love + Fixed on me. + + Old love, old love, + How can I be true? + Shall I be faithless to myself + Or to you? + + + + + The Kiss + + + 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. + + For though I know he loves me, + To-night my heart is sad; + His kiss was not so wonderful + As all the dreams I had. + + + + + Swans + + + Night is over the park, and a few brave stars + Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold, + The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars + That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold. + + We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place, + And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head; + How still you are--your gaze is on my face-- + We watch the swans and never a word is said. + + + + + The River + + + I came from the sunny valleys + And sought for the open sea, + For I thought in its gray expanses + My peace would come to me. + + I came at last to the ocean + And found it wild and black, + And I cried to the windless valleys, + "Be kind and take me back!" + + But the thirsty tide ran inland, + And the salt waves drank of me, + And I who was fresh as the rainfall + Am bitter as the sea. + + + + + November + + + The world is tired, the year is old, + The fading leaves are glad to die, + The wind goes shivering with cold + Where the brown reeds are dry. + + Our love is dying like the grass, + And we who kissed grow coldly kind, + Half glad to see our old love pass + Like leaves along the wind. + + + + + 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. + + + + + The Ghost + + + I went back to the clanging city, + I went back where my old loves stayed, + But my heart was full of my new love's glory, + My eyes were laughing and unafraid. + + I met one who had loved me madly + And told his love for all to hear-- + But we talked of a thousand things together, + The past was buried too deep to fear. + + I met the other, whose love was given + With never a kiss and scarcely a word-- + Oh, it was then the terror took me + Of words unuttered that breathed and stirred. + + Oh, love that lives its life with laughter + Or love that lives its life with tears + Can die--but love that is never spoken + Goes like a ghost through the winding years. . . . + + I went back to the clanging city, + I went back where my old loves stayed, + My heart was full of my new love's glory,-- + But my eyes were suddenly afraid. + + + + + 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? + + + + + Jewels + + + If I should see your eyes again, + I know how far their look would go-- + Back to a morning in the park + With sapphire shadows on the snow. + + Or back to oak trees in the spring + When you unloosed my hair and kissed + The head that lay against your knees + In the leaf shadow's amethyst. + + And still another shining place + We would remember--how the dun + Wild mountain held us on its crest + One diamond morning white with sun. + + But I will turn my eyes from you + As women turn to put away + The jewels they have worn at night + And cannot wear in sober day. + + + + + II + + Interlude: Songs out of Sorrow + + + + I. Spirit's House + + + From naked stones of agony + I will build a house for me; + As a mason all alone + I will raise it, stone by stone, + And every stone where I have bled + Will show a sign of dusky red. + I have not gone the way in vain, + For I have good of all my pain; + My spirit's quiet house will be + Built of naked stones I trod + On roads where I lost sight of God. + + + + + II. Mastery + + + I would not have a god come in + To shield me suddenly from sin, + And set my house of life to rights; + Nor angels with bright burning wings + Ordering my earthly thoughts and things; + Rather my own frail guttering lights + Wind blown and nearly beaten out; + Rather the terror of the nights + And long, sick groping after doubt; + Rather be lost than let my soul + Slip vaguely from my own control-- + Of my own spirit let me be + In sole though feeble mastery. + + + + + III. Lessons + + + Unless I learn to ask no help + From any other soul but mine, + To seek no strength in waving reeds + Nor shade beneath a straggling pine; + Unless I learn to look at Grief + Unshrinking from her tear-blind eyes, + And take from Pleasure fearlessly + Whatever gifts will make me wise-- + Unless I learn these things on earth, + Why was I ever given birth? + + + + + IV. Wisdom + + + When I have ceased to break my wings + Against the faultiness of things, + And learned that compromises wait + Behind each hardly opened gate, + When I can look Life in the eyes, + Grown calm and very coldly wise, + Life will have given me the Truth, + And taken in exchange--my youth. + + + + + V. In a Burying Ground + + + This is the spot where I will lie + When life has had enough of me, + These are the grasses that will blow + Above me like a living sea. + + These gay old lilies will not shrink + To draw their life from death of mine, + And I will give my body's fire + To make blue flowers on this vine. + + "O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? + Was not the body dear to you?" + I heard my soul say carelessly, + "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue." + + + + + VI. Wood Song + + + I heard a wood thrush in the dusk + Twirl three notes and make a star-- + My heart that walked with bitterness + Came back from very far. + + Three shining notes were all he had, + And yet they made a starry call-- + I caught life back against my breast + And kissed it, scars and all. + + + + + VII. Refuge + + + From my spirit's gray defeat, + From my pulse's flagging beat, + From my hopes that turned to sand + Sifting through my close-clenched hand, + From my own fault's slavery, + If I can sing, I still am free. + + For with my singing I can make + A refuge for my spirit's sake, + A house of shining words, to be + My fragile immortality. + + + + + III + + + + The Flight + + + Look back with longing eyes and know that I will follow, + Lift me up in your love as a light wind lifts a swallow, + Let our flight be far in sun or blowing rain-- + _But what if I heard my first love calling me again?_ + + Hold me on your heart as the brave sea holds the foam, + Take me far away to the hills that hide your home; + Peace shall thatch the roof and love shall latch the door-- + _But what if I heard my first love calling me once more?_ + + + + + Dew + + + As dew leaves the cobweb lightly + Threaded with stars, + Scattering jewels on the fence + And the pasture bars; + As dawn leaves the dry grass bright + And the tangled weeds + Bearing a rainbow gem + On each of their seeds; + So has your love, my lover, + Fresh as the dawn, + Made me a shining road + To travel on, + Set every common sight + Of tree or stone + Delicately alight + For me alone. + + + + + To-night + + + The moon is a curving flower of gold, + The sky is still and blue; + The moon was made for the sky to hold, + And I for you. + + The moon is a flower without a stem, + The sky is luminous; + Eternity was made for them, + To-night for us. + + + + + Ebb Tide + + + When the long day goes by + And I do not see your face, + The old wild, restless sorrow + Steals from its hiding place. + + My day is barren and broken, + Bereft of light and song, + A sea beach bleak and windy + That moans the whole day long. + + To the empty beach at ebb tide, + Bare with its rocks and scars, + Come back like the sea with singing, + And light of a million stars. + + + + + I Would Live in Your Love + + + I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea, + Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes; + I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me, + I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul + as it leads. + + + + + Because + + + Oh, because you never tried + To bow my will or break my pride, + And nothing of the cave-man made + You want to keep me half afraid, + Nor ever with a conquering air + You thought to draw me unaware-- + Take me, for I love you more + Than I ever loved before. + + And since the body's maidenhood + Alone were neither rare nor good + Unless with it I gave to you + A spirit still untrammeled, too, + Take my dreams and take my mind + That were masterless as wind; + And "Master!" I shall say to you + Since you never asked me to. + + + + + The Tree of Song + + + I sang my songs for the rest, + For you I am still; + The tree of my song is bare + On its shining hill. + + For you came like a lordly wind, + And the leaves were whirled + Far as forgotten things + Past the rim of the world. + + The tree of my song stands bare + Against the blue-- + I gave my songs to the rest, + Myself to you. + + + + + The Giver + + + You bound strong sandals on my feet, + You gave me bread and wine, + And sent me under sun and stars, + For all the world was mine. + + Oh, take the sandals off my feet, + You know not what you do; + For all my world is in your arms, + My sun and stars are you. + + + + + April Song + + + Willow, in your April gown + Delicate and gleaming, + Do you mind in years gone by + All my dreaming? + + Spring was like a call to me + That I could not answer, + I was chained to loneliness, + I, the dancer. + + Willow, twinkling in the sun, + Still your leaves and hear me, + I can answer spring at last, + Love is near me! + + + + + The Wanderer + + + I saw the sunset-colored sands, + The Nile like flowing fire between, + Where Rameses stares forth serene, + And Ammon's heavy temple stands. + + I saw the rocks where long ago, + Above the sea that cries and breaks, + Swift Perseus with Medusa's snakes + Set free the maiden white like snow. + + And many skies have covered me, + And many winds have blown me forth, + And I have loved the green, bright north, + And I have loved the cold, sweet sea. + + But what to me are north and south, + And what the lure of many lands, + Since you have leaned to catch my hands + And lay a kiss upon my mouth. + + + + + The Years + + + To-night I close my eyes and see + A strange procession passing me-- + The years before I saw your face + Go by me with a wistful grace; + They pass, the sensitive, shy years, + As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears. + + The years went by and never knew + That each one brought me nearer you; + Their path was narrow and apart + And yet it led me to your heart-- + Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years, + That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears. + + + + + Enough + + + It is enough for me by day + To walk the same bright earth with him; + Enough that over us by night + The same great roof of stars is dim. + + I do not hope to bind the wind + Or set a fetter on the sea-- + It is enough to feel his love + Blow by like music over me. + + + + + Come + + + Come, when the pale moon like a petal + Floats in the pearly dusk of spring, + Come with arms outstretched to take me, + Come with lips pursed up to cling. + + Come, for life is a frail moth flying, + Caught in the web of the years that pass, + And soon we two, so warm and eager, + Will be as the gray stones in the grass. + + + + + Joy + + + I am wild, I will sing to the trees, + I will sing to the stars in the sky, + I love, I am loved, he is mine, + Now at last I can die! + + I am sandaled with wind and with flame, + I have heart-fire and singing to give, + I can tread on the grass or the stars, + Now at last I can live! + + + + + Riches + + + I have no riches but my thoughts, + Yet these are wealth enough for me; + My thoughts of you are golden coins + Stamped in the mint of memory; + + And I must spend them all in song, + For thoughts, as well as gold, must be + Left on the hither side of death + To gain their immortality. + + + + + Dusk in War Time + + + A half-hour more and you will lean + To gather me close in the old sweet way-- + But oh, to the woman over the sea + Who will come at the close of day? + + A half-hour more and I will hear + The key in the latch and the strong, quick tread-- + But oh, the woman over the sea + Waiting at dusk for one who is dead! + + + + + Peace + + + Peace flows into me + As the tide to the pool by the shore; + It is mine forevermore, + It will not ebb 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. + + + + + Moods + + + I am the still rain falling, + Too tired for singing mirth-- + Oh, be the green fields calling, + Oh, be for me the earth! + + I am the brown bird pining + To leave the nest and fly-- + Oh, be the fresh cloud shining, + Oh, be for me the sky! + + + + + Houses of Dreams + + + You took my empty dreams + And filled them every one + With tenderness and nobleness, + April and the sun. + + The old empty dreams + Where my thoughts would throng + Are far too full of happiness + To even hold a song. + + Oh, the empty dreams were dim + And the empty dreams were wide, + They were sweet and shadowy houses + Where my thoughts could hide. + + But you took my dreams away + And you made them all come true-- + My thoughts have no place now to play, + And nothing now to do. + + + + + Lights + + + When we come home at night and close the door, + Standing together in the shadowy room, + Safe in our own love and the gentle gloom, + Glad of familiar wall and chair and floor, + + Glad to leave far below the clanging city; + Looking far downward to the glaring street + Gaudy with light, yet tired with many feet, + In both of us wells up a wordless pity; + + Men have tried hard to put away the dark; + A million lighted windows brilliantly + Inlay with squares of gold the winter night, + But to us standing here there comes the stark + Sense of the lives behind each yellow light, + And not one wholly joyous, proud, or free. + + + + + "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. + + + + + Doubt + + + My soul lives in my body's house, + And you have both the house and her-- + But sometimes she is less your own + Than a wild, gay adventurer; + A restless and an eager wraith, + How can I tell what she will do-- + Oh, I am sure of my body's faith, + But what if my soul broke faith with you? + + + + + The Wind + + + A wind is blowing over my soul, + I hear it cry the whole night through-- + Is there no peace for me on earth + Except with you? + + Alas, the wind has made me wise, + Over my naked soul it blew,-- + There is no peace for me on earth + Even with you. + + + + + Morning + + + I went out on an April morning + All alone, for my heart was high, + I was a child of the shining meadow, + I was a sister of the sky. + + There in the windy flood of morning + Longing lifted its weight from me, + Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, + Swept as a sea-bird out to sea. + + + + + Other Men + + + When I talk with other men + I always think of you-- + Your words are keener than their words, + And they are gentler, too. + + When I look at other men, + I wish your face were there, + With its gray eyes and dark skin + And tossed black hair. + + When I think of other men, + Dreaming alone by day, + The thought of you like a strong wind + Blows the dreams away. + + + + + Embers + + + 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. + + + + + Message + + + I heard a cry in the night, + A thousand miles it came, + Sharp as a flash of light, + My name, my name! + + It was your voice I heard, + You waked and loved me so-- + I send you back this word, + I know, I know! + + + + + The Lamp + + + If I can bear your love like a lamp before me, + When I go down the long steep Road of Darkness, + I shall not fear the everlasting shadows, + Nor cry in terror. + + If I can find out God, then I shall find Him, + If none can find Him, then I shall sleep soundly, + Knowing how well on earth your love sufficed me, + A lamp in darkness. + + + + + IV + + + + A November Night + + + There! See the line of lights, + A chain of stars down either side the street-- + Why can't you lift the chain and give it to me, + A necklace for my throat? I'd twist it round + And you could play with it. You smile at me + As though I were a little dreamy child + Behind whose eyes the fairies live. . . . And see, + The people on the street look up at us + All envious. We are a king and queen, + Our royal carriage is a motor bus, + We watch our subjects with a haughty joy. . . . + How still you are! Have you been hard at work + And are you tired to-night? It is so long + Since I have seen you--four whole days, I think. + My heart is crowded full of foolish thoughts + Like early flowers in an April meadow, + And I must give them to you, all of them, + Before they fade. The people I have met, + The play I saw, the trivial, shifting things + That loom too big or shrink too little, shadows + That hurry, gesturing along a wall, + Haunting or gay--and yet they all grow real + And take their proper size here in my heart + When you have seen them. . . . There's the Plaza now, + A lake of light! To-night it almost seems + That all the lights are gathered in your eyes, + Drawn somehow toward you. See the open park + Lying below us with a million lamps + Scattered in wise disorder like the stars. + We look down on them as God must look down + On constellations floating under Him + Tangled in clouds. . . . Come, then, and let us walk + Since we have reached the park. It is our garden, + All black and blossomless this winter night, + But we bring April with us, you and I; + We set the whole world on the trail of spring. + I think that every path we ever took + Has marked our footprints in mysterious fire, + Delicate gold that only fairies see. + When they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks + And come out on the drowsy park, they look + Along the empty paths and say, "Oh, here + They went, and here, and here, and here! Come, see, + Here is their bench, take hands and let us dance + About it in a windy ring and make + A circle round it only they can cross + When they come back again!" . . . Look at the lake-- + Do you remember how we watched the swans + That night in late October while they slept? + Swans must have stately dreams, I think. But now + The lake bears only thin reflected lights + That shake a little. How I long to take + One from the cold black water--new-made gold + To give you in your hand! And see, and see, + There is a star, deep in the lake, a star! + Oh, dimmer than a pearl--if you stoop down + Your hand could almost reach it up to me. . . . + + There was a new frail yellow moon to-night-- + I wish you could have had it for a cup + With stars like dew to fill it to the brim. . . . + + How cold it is! Even the lights are cold; + They have put shawls of fog around them, see! + What if the air should grow so dimly white + That we would lose our way along the paths + Made new by walls of moving mist receding + The more we follow. . . . What a silver night! + That was our bench the time you said to me + The long new poem--but how different now, + How eerie with the curtain of the fog + Making it strange to all the friendly trees! + There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls + Carve themselves, ever changing, in the mist. + Walk on a little, let me stand here watching + To see you, too, grown strange to me and far. . . . + I used to wonder how the park would be + If one night we could have it all alone-- + No lovers with close arm-encircled waists + To whisper and break in upon our dreams. + And now we have it! Every wish comes true! + We are alone now in a fleecy world; + Even the stars have gone. We two alone! + + + + +[End of Love Songs.] + + + +{As an item of interest to the reader, the following, which was at the +end of this edition, is included. Only the advertisement for the same +author is included}. + + + + +By the same author + +Rivers to the Sea + + +"There is hardly another American woman-poet whose poetry is generally +known and loved like that of Sara Teasdale. 'Rivers to the Sea', her +latest volume of lyrics, possesses the delicacy of imagery, the inward +illumination, the high vision that characterize the poetry that will +endure the test of time."--'Review of Reviews'. + +"'Rivers to the Sea' is a book of sheer delight. . . . Her touch turns +everything to song."--Edward J. Wheeler, in 'Current Opinion'. + +"Sara Teasdale's lyrics have the clarity, the precision, the grace and +fragrance of flowers."--Harriet Monroe, in 'Poetry'. + +"Sara Teasdale has a genius for the song, for the perfect lyric, in +which the words seem to have fallen into place without art or +effort."--Louis Untermeyer, in 'The Chicago Evening Post'. + +"'Rivers to the Sea' is the best book of pure lyrics that has appeared +in English since A. E. Housman's 'A Shropshire Lad'."--William Marion +Reedy, in 'The Mirror'. + +"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most beautiful book of pure lyrics that has +come to my hand in years."--'Los Angeles Graphic'. + +"Sara Teasdale sings about love better than any other contemporary +American poet."--'The Boston Transcript'. + +"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most charming volume of poetry that has +appeared on either side of the Atlantic in a score of years."--'St. +Louis Republic'. + + + + +Sara Teasdale (1884-1933): + +Teasdale was born in St. Louis, Missouri, where she attended a school +that was founded by the grandfather of another great poet from St. +Louis--T. S. Eliot. She later associated herself more with New York +City. + +Her first book of poems was "Sonnets to Duse" (1907), [at least one poem +in the current volume, "Faults", is from this book,] but "Helen of Troy" +(1911) was the true launch of her career, followed by "Rivers to the Sea" +(1915), "Love Songs" (1917), "Flame and Shadow" (1920) and more. Her +final volume, "Strange Victory", is considered by many to be predictive +of her suicide in 1933. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Songs, by Sara Teasdale + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE SONGS *** + +***** This file should be named 442.txt or 442.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/442/ + +Produced by A. Light and L. Bowser. 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