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@@ -0,0 +1,2753 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Flame and Shadow, 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: Flame and Shadow + +Author: Sara Teasdale + +Posting Date: July 30, 2008 [EBook #591] +Release Date: July, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLAME AND SHADOW *** + + + + +Produced by A. Light. + + + + + + + + +Flame and Shadow + + +By + +Sara Teasdale + + + +[Note on text: Italicized stanzas are indented 5 spaces. +Italicized words or phrases are marked by tildes (~). +Lines longer than 78 characters are broken according to metre, +and the continuation is indented two spaces. Also, some obvious errors +may have been corrected.] + + + + + +Flame and Shadow + + +By + +Sara Teasdale + + + +Author of "Rivers to the Sea", "Love Songs", etc. + + + + + + To E. + + "Recois la flamme ou l'ombre + De tous mes jours." + + + + + + Contents + + + + I + + Blue Squills + Stars + "What Do I Care?" + Meadowlarks + Driftwood + "I Have Loved Hours at Sea" + August Moonrise + + + + Memories + + + II + + Places + Old Tunes + "Only in Sleep" + Redbirds + Sunset: St. Louis + The Coin + The Voice + + + III + + Day and Night + Compensation + I Remembered + "Oh You Are Coming" + The Return + Gray Eyes + The Net + The Mystery + + + + In a Hospital + + IV + + Open Windows + The New Moon + Eight O'Clock + Lost Things + Pain + The Broken Field + The Unseen + A Prayer + + + V + + Spring Torrents + "I Know the Stars" + Understanding + Nightfall + "It Is Not a Word" + "My Heart Is Heavy" + The Nights Remember + "Let It Be Forgotten" + + + + The Dark Cup + + VI + + May Day + "Since There Is No Escape" + "The Dreams of My Heart" + "A Little While" + The Garden + The Wine + In a Cuban Garden + "If I Must Go" + + + VII + + In Spring, Santa Barbara + White Fog + Arcturus + Moonlight + Morning Song + Gray Fog + Bells + Lovely Chance + + + VIII + + "There Will Come Soft Rains" + In a Garden + Nahant + Winter Stars + A Boy + Winter Dusk + + + + By the Sea + + IX + + The Unchanging + June Night + "Like Barley Bending" + "Oh Day of Fire and Sun" + "I Thought of You" + On the Dunes + Spray + If Death Is Kind + + + X + + Thoughts + Faces + Evening: New York + Snowfall + The Silent Battle + The Sanctuary + At Sea + Dust + The Long Hill + + + XI + + Summer Storm + In the End + "It Will Not Change" + Change + Water Lilies + "Did You Never Know?" + The Treasure + The Storm + + + + Songs For Myself + + XII + + The Tree + At Midnight + Song Making + Alone + Red Maples + Debtor + The Wind in the Hemlock + + + + + Flame and Shadow + + + + + I + + + Blue Squills + + + How many million Aprils came + Before I ever knew + How white a cherry bough could be, + A bed of squills, how blue! + + And many a dancing April + When life is done with me, + Will lift the blue flame of the flower + And the white flame of the tree. + + Oh burn me with your beauty, then, + Oh hurt me, tree and flower, + Lest in the end death try to take + Even this glistening hour. + + O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees, + O sunlit white and blue, + Wound me, that I, through endless sleep, + May bear the scar of you. + + + + + Stars + + + + Alone in the night + On a dark hill + With pines around me + Spicy and still, + + And a heaven full of stars + Over my head, + White and topaz + And misty red; + + Myriads with beating + Hearts of fire + That aeons + Cannot vex or tire; + + Up the dome of heaven + Like a great hill, + I watch them marching + Stately and still, + + And I know that I + Am honored to be + Witness + Of so much majesty. + + + + + "What Do I Care?" + + + + What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, + That my songs do not show me at all? + For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, + I am an answer, they are only a call. + + But what do I care, for love will be over so soon, + Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by, + For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent, + It is my heart that makes my songs, not I. + + + + + Meadowlarks + + + + In the silver light after a storm, + Under dripping boughs of bright new green, + I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks + Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen. + + What have I to fear in life or death + Who have known three things: the kiss in the night, + The white flying joy when a song is born, + And meadowlarks whistling in silver light. + + + + + Driftwood + + + + My forefathers gave me + My spirit's shaken flame, + The shape of hands, the beat of heart, + The letters of my name. + + But it was my lovers, + And not my sleeping sires, + Who gave the flame its changeful + And iridescent fires; + + As the driftwood burning + Learned its jewelled blaze + From the sea's blue splendor + Of colored nights and days. + + + + + "I Have Loved Hours at Sea" + + + + I have loved hours at sea, gray cities, + The fragile secret of a flower, + Music, the making of a poem + That gave me heaven for an hour; + + First stars above a snowy hill, + Voices of people kindly and wise, + And the great look of love, long hidden, + Found at last in meeting eyes. + + I have loved much and been loved deeply-- + Oh when my spirit's fire burns low, + Leave me the darkness and the stillness, + I shall be tired and glad to go. + + + + + August Moonrise + + + + The sun was gone, and the moon was coming + Over the blue Connecticut hills; + The west was rosy, the east was flushed, + And over my head the swallows rushed + This way and that, with changeful wills. + I heard them twitter and watched them dart + Now together and now apart + Like dark petals blown from a tree; + The maples stamped against the west + Were black and stately and full of rest, + And the hazy orange moon grew up + And slowly changed to yellow gold + While the hills were darkened, fold on fold + To a deeper blue than a flower could hold. + Down the hill I went, and then + I forgot the ways of men, + For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool + Wakened ecstasy in me + On the brink of a shining pool. + + O Beauty, out of many a cup + You have made me drunk and wild + Ever since I was a child, + But when have I been sure as now + That no bitterness can bend + And no sorrow wholly bow + One who loves you to the end? + And though I must give my breath + And my laughter all to death, + And my eyes through which joy came, + And my heart, a wavering flame; + If all must leave me and go back + Along a blind and fearful track + So that you can make anew, + Fusing with intenser fire, + Something nearer your desire; + If my soul must go alone + Through a cold infinity, + Or even if it vanish, too, + Beauty, I have worshipped you. + + Let this single hour atone + For the theft of all of me. + + + + + + + Memories + II + + + + + + + Places + + + + Places I love come back to me like music, + Hush me and heal me when I am very tired; + I see the oak woods at Saxton's flaming + In a flare of crimson by the frost newly fired; + And I am thirsty for the spring in the valley + As for a kiss ungiven and long desired. + + I know a bright world of snowy hills at Boonton, + A blue and white dazzling light on everything one sees, + The ice-covered branches of the hemlocks sparkle + Bending low and tinkling in the sharp thin breeze, + And iridescent crystals fall and crackle on the snow-crust + With the winter sun drawing cold blue shadows from the trees. + + Violet now, in veil on veil of evening + The hills across from Cromwell grow dreamy and far; + A wood-thrush is singing soft as a viol + In the heart of the hollow where the dark pools are; + The primrose has opened her pale yellow flowers + And heaven is lighting star after star. + + Places I love come back to me like music-- + Mid-ocean, midnight, the waves buzz drowsily; + In the ship's deep churning the eerie phosphorescence + Is like the souls of people who were drowned at sea, + And I can hear a man's voice, speaking, hushed, insistent, + At midnight, in mid-ocean, hour on hour to me. + + + + + Old Tunes + + + + As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose, + Float in the garden when no wind blows, + Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows; + + So the old tunes float in my mind, + And go from me leaving no trace behind, + Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind. + + But in the instant the airs remain + I know the laughter and the pain + Of times that will not come again. + + I try to catch at many a tune + Like petals of light fallen from the moon, + Broken and bright on a dark lagoon, + + But they float away--for who can hold + Youth, or perfume or the moon's gold? + + + + + "Only in Sleep" + + + + Only in sleep I see their faces, + Children I played with when I was a child, + Louise comes back with her brown hair braided, + Annie with ringlets warm and wild. + + Only in sleep Time is forgotten-- + What may have come to them, who can know? + Yet we played last night as long ago, + And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair. + + The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces, + I met their eyes and found them mild-- + Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder, + And for them am I too a child? + + + + + Redbirds + + + + Redbirds, redbirds, + Long and long ago, + What a honey-call you had + In hills I used to know; + + Redbud, buckberry, + Wild plum-tree + And proud river sweeping + Southward to the sea, + + Brown and gold in the sun + Sparkling far below, + Trailing stately round her bluffs + Where the poplars grow-- + + Redbirds, redbirds, + Are you singing still + As you sang one May day + On Saxton's Hill? + + + + + Sunset: St. Louis + + + + Hushed in the smoky haze of summer sunset, + When I came home again from far-off places, + How many times I saw my western city + Dream by her river. + + Then for an hour the water wore a mantle + Of tawny gold and mauve and misted turquoise + Under the tall and darkened arches bearing + Gray, high-flung bridges. + + Against the sunset, water-towers and steeples + Flickered with fire up the slope to westward, + And old warehouses poured their purple shadows + Across the levee. + + High over them the black train swept with thunder, + Cleaving the city, leaving far beneath it + Wharf-boats moored beside the old side-wheelers + Resting in twilight. + + + + + The Coin + + + + Into my heart's treasury + I slipped a coin + That time cannot take + Nor a thief purloin,-- + Oh better than the minting + Of a gold-crowned king + Is the safe-kept memory + Of a lovely thing. + + + + + The Voice + + + + Atoms as old as stars, + Mutation on mutation, + Millions and millions of cells + Dividing yet still the same, + From air and changing earth, + From ancient Eastern rivers, + From turquoise tropic seas, + Unto myself I came. + + My spirit like my flesh + Sprang from a thousand sources, + From cave-man, hunter and shepherd, + From Karnak, Cyprus, Rome; + The living thoughts in me + Spring from dead men and women, + Forgotten time out of mind + And many as bubbles of foam. + + Here for a moment's space + Into the light out of darkness, + I come and they come with me + Finding words with my breath; + From the wisdom of many life-times + I hear them cry: "Forever + Seek for Beauty, she only + Fights with man against Death!" + + + + + + + III + + + + + + + Day and Night + + + + In Warsaw in Poland + Half the world away, + The one I love best of all + Thought of me to-day; + + I know, for I went + Winged as a bird, + In the wide flowing wind + His own voice I heard; + + His arms were round me + In a ferny place, + I looked in the pool + And there was his face-- + + But now it is night + And the cold stars say: + "Warsaw in Poland + Is half the world away." + + + + + Compensation + + + + I should be glad of loneliness + And hours that go on broken wings, + A thirsty body, a tired heart + And the unchanging ache of things, + If I could make a single song + As lovely and as full of light, + As hushed and brief as a falling star + On a winter night. + + + + + I Remembered + + + + There never was a mood of mine, + Gay or heart-broken, luminous or dull, + But you could ease me of its fever + And give it back to me more beautiful. + + In many another soul I broke the bread, + And drank the wine and played the happy guest, + But I was lonely, I remembered you; + The heart belongs to him who knew it best. + + + + + "Oh You Are Coming" + + + + Oh you are coming, coming, coming, + How will hungry Time put by the hours till then?-- + But why does it anger my heart to long so + For one man out of the world of men? + + Oh I would live in myself only + And build my life lightly and still as a dream-- + Are not my thoughts clearer than your thoughts + And colored like stones in a running stream? + + Now the slow moon brightens in heaven, + The stars are ready, the night is here-- + Oh why must I lose myself to love you, + My dear? + + + + + The Return + + + + He has come, he is here, + My love has come home, + The minutes are lighter + Than flying foam, + The hours are like dancers + On gold-slippered feet, + The days are young runners + Naked and fleet-- + For my love has returned, + He is home, he is here, + In the whole world no other + Is dear as my dear! + + + + + Gray Eyes + + + + It was April when you came + The first time to me, + And my first look in your eyes + Was like my first look at the sea. + + We have been together + Four Aprils now + Watching for the green + On the swaying willow bough; + + Yet whenever I turn + To your gray eyes over me, + It is as though I looked + For the first time at the sea. + + + + + The Net + + + + I made you many and many a song, + Yet never one told all you are-- + It was as though a net of words + Were flung to catch a star; + + It was as though I curved my hand + And dipped sea-water eagerly, + Only to find it lost the blue + Dark splendor of the sea. + + + + + The Mystery + + + + Your eyes drink of me, + Love makes them shine, + Your eyes that lean + So close to mine. + + We have long been lovers, + We know the range + Of each other's moods + And how they change; + + But when we look + At each other so + Then we feel + How little we know; + + The spirit eludes us, + Timid and free-- + Can I ever know you + Or you know me? + + + + + + + In a Hospital + IV + + + + + + + Open Windows + + + + Out of the window a sea of green trees + Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer, + They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!" + But I cannot answer. + + I am alone with Weakness and Pain, + Sick abed and June is going, + I cannot keep her, she hurries by + With the silver-green of her garments blowing. + + Men and women pass in the street + Glad of the shining sapphire weather, + But we know more of it than they, + Pain and I together. + + They are the runners in the sun, + Breathless and blinded by the race, + But we are watchers in the shade + Who speak with Wonder face to face. + + + + + The New Moon + + + + Day, you have bruised and beaten me, + As rain beats down the bright, proud sea, + Beaten my body, bruised my soul, + Left me nothing lovely or whole-- + Yet I have wrested a gift from you, + Day that dies in dusky blue: + + For suddenly over the factories + I saw a moon in the cloudy seas-- + A wisp of beauty all alone + In a world as hard and gray as stone-- + Oh who could be bitter and want to die + When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky? + + + + + Eight O'Clock + + + + Supper comes at five o'clock, + At six, the evening star, + My lover comes at eight o'clock-- + But eight o'clock is far. + + How could I bear my pain all day + Unless I watched to see + The clock-hands laboring to bring + Eight o'clock to me. + + + + + Lost Things + + + + Oh, I could let the world go by, + Its loud new wonders and its wars, + But how will I give up the sky + When winter dusk is set with stars? + + And I could let the cities go, + Their changing customs and their creeds,-- + But oh, the summer rains that blow + In silver on the jewel-weeds! + + + + + Pain + + + + Waves are the sea's white daughters, + And raindrops the children of rain, + But why for my shimmering body + Have I a mother like Pain? + + Night is the mother of stars, + And wind the mother of foam-- + The world is brimming with beauty, + But I must stay at home. + + + + + The Broken Field + + + + My soul is a dark ploughed field + In the cold rain; + My soul is a broken field + Ploughed by pain. + + Where grass and bending flowers + Were growing, + The field lies broken now + For another sowing. + + Great Sower when you tread + My field again, + Scatter the furrows there + With better grain. + + + + + The Unseen + + + + Death went up the hall + Unseen by every one, + Trailing twilight robes + Past the nurse and the nun. + + He paused at every door + And listened to the breath + Of those who did not know + How near they were to Death. + + Death went up the hall + Unseen by nurse and nun; + He passed by many a door-- + But he entered one. + + + + + A Prayer + + + + When I am dying, let me know + That I loved the blowing snow + Although it stung like whips; + That I loved all lovely things + And I tried to take their stings + With gay unembittered lips; + That I loved with all my strength, + To my soul's full depth and length, + Careless if my heart must break, + That I sang as children sing + Fitting tunes to everything, + Loving life for its own sake. + + + + + + + V + + + + + + + Spring Torrents + + + + Will it always be like this until I am dead, + Every spring must I bear it all again + With the first red haze of the budding maple boughs, + And the first sweet-smelling rain? + + Oh I am like a rock in the rising river + Where the flooded water breaks with a low call-- + Like a rock that knows the cry of the waters + And cannot answer at all. + + + + + "I Know the Stars" + + + + I know the stars by their names, + Aldebaran, Altair, + And I know the path they take + Up heaven's broad blue stair. + + I know the secrets of men + By the look of their eyes, + Their gray thoughts, their strange thoughts + Have made me sad and wise. + + But your eyes are dark to me + Though they seem to call and call-- + I cannot tell if you love me + Or do not love me at all. + + I know many things, + But the years come and go, + I shall die not knowing + The thing I long to know. + + + + + Understanding + + + + I understood the rest too well, + And all their thoughts have come to be + Clear as grey sea-weed in the swell + Of a sunny shallow sea. + + But you I never understood, + Your spirit's secret hides like gold + Sunk in a Spanish galleon + Ages ago in waters cold. + + + + + Nightfall + + + + We will never walk again + As we used to walk at night, + Watching our shadows lengthen + Under the gold street-light + When the snow was new and white. + + We will never walk again + Slowly, we two, + In spring when the park is sweet + With midnight and with dew, + And the passers-by are few. + + I sit and think of it all, + And the blue June twilight dies,-- + Down in the clanging square + A street-piano cries + And stars come out in the skies. + + + + + "It Is Not a Word" + + + + It is not a word spoken, + Few words are said; + Nor even a look of the eyes + Nor a bend of the head, + But only a hush of the heart + That has too much to keep, + Only memories waking + That sleep so light a sleep. + + + + + "My Heart Is Heavy" + + + + My heart is heavy with many a song + Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree, + But I can never give you one-- + My songs do not belong to me. + + Yet in the evening, in the dusk + When moths go to and fro, + In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen, + Take it, no one will know. + + + + + The Nights Remember + + + + The days remember and the nights remember + The kingly hours that once you made so great, + Deep in my heart they lie, hidden in their splendor, + Buried like sovereigns in their robes of state. + + Let them not wake again, better to lie there, + Wrapped in memories, jewelled and arrayed-- + Many a ghostly king has waked from death-sleep + And found his crown stolen and his throne decayed. + + + + + "Let It Be Forgotten" + + + + Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, + Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, + Let it be forgotten for ever and ever, + Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. + + If anyone asks, say it was forgotten + Long and long ago, + As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall + In a long forgotten snow. + + + + + + + The Dark Cup + VI + + + + + + + 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? + + + + + "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. + + + + + "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. + + + + + "A Little While" + + + + A little while when I am gone + My life will live in music after me, + As spun foam lifted and borne on + After the wave is lost in the full sea. + + A while these nights and days will burn + In song with the bright frailty of foam, + Living in light before they turn + Back to the nothingness that is their home. + + + + + The Garden + + + + My heart is a garden tired with autumn, + Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, + In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, + The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; + + Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, + And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain-- + The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten-- + After the stillness, will spring come again? + + + + + The Wine + + + + I cannot die, who drank delight + From the cup of the crescent moon, + And hungrily as men eat bread, + Loved the scented nights of June. + + The rest may die--but is there not + Some shining strange escape for me + Who sought in Beauty the bright wine + Of immortality? + + + + + 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. + + + + + "If I Must Go" + + + + If I must go to heaven's end + Climbing the ages like a stair, + Be near me and forever bend + With the same eyes above me there; + Time will fly past us like leaves flying, + We shall not heed, for we shall be + Beyond living, beyond dying, + Knowing and known unchangeably. + + + + + + + VII + + + + + + + In Spring, Santa Barbara + + + + I have been happy two weeks together, + My love is coming home to me, + Gold and silver is the weather + And smooth as lapis is the sea. + + The earth has turned its brown to green + After three nights of humming rain, + And in the valleys peck and preen + Linnets with a scarlet stain. + + High in the mountains all alone + The wild swans whistle on the lakes, + But I have been as still as stone, + My heart sings only when it breaks. + + + + + White Fog + + + + Heaven-invading hills are drowned + In wide moving waves of mist, + Phlox before my door are wound + In dripping wreaths of amethyst. + + Ten feet away the solid earth + Changes into melting cloud, + There is a hush of pain and mirth, + No bird has heart to speak aloud. + + Here in a world without a sky, + Without the ground, without the sea, + The one unchanging thing is I, + Myself remains to comfort me. + + + + + Arcturus + + + + Arcturus brings the spring back + As surely now as when + He rose on eastern islands + For Grecian girls and men; + + The twilight is as clear a blue, + The star as shaken and as bright, + And the same thought he gave to them + He gives to me to-night. + + + + + Moonlight + + + + It will not hurt me when I am old, + A running tide where moonlight burned + Will not sting me like silver snakes; + The years will make me sad and cold, + It is the happy heart that breaks. + + The heart asks more than life can give, + When that is learned, then all is learned; + The waves break fold on jewelled fold, + But beauty itself is fugitive, + It will not hurt me when I am old. + + + + + Morning Song + + + + A diamond of a morning + Waked me an hour too soon; + Dawn had taken in the stars + And left the faint white moon. + + O white moon, you are lonely, + It is the same with me, + But we have the world to roam over, + Only the lonely are free. + + + + + Gray Fog + + + + A fog drifts in, the heavy laden + Cold white ghost of the sea-- + One by one the hills go out, + The road and the pepper-tree. + + I watch the fog float in at the window + With the whole world gone blind, + Everything, even my longing, drowses, + Even the thoughts in my mind. + + I put my head on my hands before me, + There is nothing left to be done or said, + There is nothing to hope for, I am tired, + And heavy as the dead. + + + + + Bells + + + + At six o'clock of an autumn dusk + With the sky in the west a rusty red, + The bells of the mission down in the valley + Cry out that the day is dead. + + The first star pricks as sharp as steel-- + Why am I suddenly so cold? + Three bells, each with a separate sound + Clang in the valley, wearily tolled. + + Bells in Venice, bells at sea, + Bells in the valley heavy and slow-- + There is no place over the crowded world + Where I can forget that the days go. + + + + + Lovely Chance + + + + O lovely chance, what can I do + To give my gratefulness to you? + You rise between myself and me + With a wise persistency; + I would have broken body and soul, + But by your grace, still I am whole. + Many a thing you did to save me, + Many a holy gift you gave me, + Music and friends and happy love + More than my dearest dreaming of; + And now in this wide twilight hour + With earth and heaven a dark, blue flower, + In a humble mood I bless + Your wisdom--and your waywardness. + You brought me even here, where I + Live on a hill against the sky + And look on mountains and the sea + And a thin white moon in the pepper tree. + + + + + + + VIII + + + + + + + "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. + + + + + In a Garden + + + + The world is resting without sound or motion, + Behind the apple tree the sun goes down + Painting with fire the spires and the windows + In the elm-shaded town. + + Beyond the calm Connecticut the hills lie + Silvered with haze as fruits still fresh with bloom, + The swallows weave in flight across the zenith + On an aerial loom. + + Into the garden peace comes back with twilight, + Peace that since noon had left the purple phlox, + The heavy-headed asters, the late roses + And swaying hollyhocks. + + For at high-noon I heard from this same garden + The far-off murmur as when many come; + Up from the village surged the blind and beating + Red music of a drum; + + And the hysterical sharp fife that shattered + The brittle autumn air, + While they came, the young men marching + Past the village square. . . . + + Across the calm Connecticut the hills change + To violet, the veils of dusk are deep-- + Earth takes her children's many sorrows calmly + And stills herself to sleep. + + + + + Nahant + + + + Bowed as an elm under the weight of its beauty, + So earth is bowed, under her weight of splendor, + Molten sea, richness of leaves and the burnished + Bronze of sea-grasses. + + Clefts in the cliff shelter the purple sand-peas + And chicory flowers bluer than the ocean + Flinging its foam high, white fire in sunshine, + Jewels of water. + + Joyous thunder of blown waves on the ledges, + Make me forget war and the dark war-sorrow-- + Against the sky a sentry paces the sea-cliff + Slim in his khaki. + + + + + Winter Stars + + + + I went out at night alone; + The young blood flowing beyond the sea + Seemed to have drenched my spirit's wings-- + I bore my sorrow heavily. + + But when I lifted up my head + From shadows shaken on the snow, + I saw Orion in the east + Burn steadily as long ago. + + From windows in my father's house, + Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, + I watched Orion as a girl + Above another city's lights. + + Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, + The world's heart breaks beneath its wars, + All things are changed, save in the east + The faithful beauty of the stars. + + + + + A Boy + + + + Out of the noise of tired people working, + Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead, + His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing, + Clean boyish beauty and high-held head. + + Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them, + Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes-- + Men die by millions now, because God blunders, + Yet to have made this boy he must be wise. + + + + + Winter Dusk + + + + I watch the great clear twilight + Veiling the ice-bowed trees; + Their branches tinkle faintly + With crystal melodies. + + The larches bend their silver + Over the hush of snow; + One star is lighted in the west, + Two in the zenith glow. + + For a moment I have forgotten + Wars and women who mourn-- + I think of the mother who bore me + And thank her that I was born. + + + + + + + By the Sea + IX + + + + + + + The Unchanging + + + + Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing + From the immense blue circle of the sea, + And the soft thunder where long waves whiten-- + These were the same for Sappho as for me. + + Two thousand years--much has gone by forever, + Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men-- + But here on the beaches that time passes over + The heart aches now as then. + + + + + June Night + + + + Oh Earth, you are too dear to-night, + How can I sleep while all around + Floats rainy fragrance and the far + Deep voice of the ocean that talks to the ground? + + Oh Earth, you gave me all I have, + I love you, I love you,--oh what have I + That I can give you in return-- + Except my body after I die? + + + + + "Like Barley Bending" + + + + Like barley bending + In low fields by the sea, + Singing in hard wind + Ceaselessly; + + Like barley bending + And rising again, + So would I, unbroken, + Rise from pain; + + So would I softly, + Day long, night long, + Change my sorrow + Into song. + + + + + "Oh Day of Fire and Sun" + + + + Oh day of fire and sun, + Pure as a naked flame, + Blue sea, blue sky and dun + Sands where he spoke my name; + + Laughter and hearts so high + That the spirit flew off free, + Lifting into the sky + Diving into the sea; + + Oh day of fire and sun + Like a crystal burning, + Slow days go one by one, + But you have no returning. + + + + + "I Thought of You" + + + + I thought of you and how you love this beauty, + And walking up the long beach all alone + I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder + As you and I once heard their monotone. + + Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me + The cold and sparkling silver of the sea-- + We two will pass through death and ages lengthen + Before you hear that sound again with me. + + + + + On the Dunes + + + + If there is any life when death is over, + These tawny beaches will know much of me, + I shall come back, as constant and as changeful + As the unchanging, many-colored sea. + + If life was small, if it has made me scornful, + Forgive me; I shall straighten like a flame + In the great calm of death, and if you want me + Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name. + + + + + Spray + + + + I knew you thought of me all night, + I knew, though you were far away; + I felt your love blow over me + As if a dark wind-riven sea + Drenched me with quivering spray. + + There are so many ways to love + And each way has its own delight-- + Then be content to come to me + Only as spray the beating sea + Drives inland through the night. + + + + + If Death Is Kind + + + + Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning, + We will come back to earth some fragrant night, + And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending + Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white. + + We will come down at night to these resounding beaches + And the long gentle thunder of the sea, + Here for a single hour in the wide starlight + We shall be happy, for the dead are free. + + + + + + + X + + + + + + + Thoughts + + + + When I am all alone + Envy me most, + Then my thoughts flutter round me + In a glimmering host; + + Some dressed in silver, + Some dressed in white, + Each like a taper + Blossoming light; + + Most of them merry, + Some of them grave, + Each of them lithe + As willows that wave; + + Some bearing violets, + Some bearing bay, + One with a burning rose + Hidden away-- + + When I am all alone + Envy me then, + For I have better friends + Than women and men. + + + + + Faces + + + + People that I meet and pass + In the city's broken roar, + Faces that I lose so soon + And have never found before, + + Do you know how much you tell + In the meeting of our eyes, + How ashamed I am, and sad + To have pierced your poor disguise? + + Secrets rushing without sound + Crying from your hiding places-- + Let me go, I cannot bear + The sorrow of the passing faces. + + --People in the restless street, + Can it be, oh can it be + In the meeting of our eyes + That you know as much of me? + + + + + Evening: New York + + + + Blue dust of evening over my city, + Over the ocean of roofs and the tall towers + Where the window-lights, myriads and myriads, + Bloom from the walls like climbing flowers. + + + + + Snowfall + + + + "She can't be unhappy," you said, + "The smiles are like stars in her eyes, + And her laugh is thistledown + Around her low replies." + "Is she unhappy?" you said-- + But who has ever known + Another's heartbreak-- + All he can know is his own; + And she seems hushed to me, + As hushed as though + Her heart were a hunter's fire + Smothered in snow. + + + + + The Silent Battle + + (In Memory of J. W. T. Jr.) + + + + He was a soldier in that fight + Where there is neither flag nor drum, + And without sound of musketry + The stealthy foemen come. + + Year in, year out, by day and night + They forced him to a slow retreat, + And for his gallant fight alone + No fife was blown, and no drum beat. + + In winter fog, in gathering mist + The gray grim battle had its end-- + And at the very last we knew + His enemy had turned his friend. + + + + + The Sanctuary + + + + If I could keep my innermost Me + Fearless, aloof and free + Of the least breath of love or hate, + And not disconsolate + At the sick load of sorrow laid on men; + If I could keep a sanctuary there + Free even of prayer, + If I could do this, then, + With quiet candor as I grew more wise + I could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes. + + + + + At Sea + + + + In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely, + On the deck of a ship, rising, falling, + Wild night around me, wild water under me, + Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling. + + Earth is hostile and the sea hostile, + Why do I look for a place to rest? + I must fight always and die fighting + With fear an unhealing wound in my breast. + + + + + Dust + + + + When I went to look at what had long been hidden, + A jewel laid long ago in a secret place, + I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire-- + But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face. + + I almost gave my life long ago for a thing + That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes-- + It is strange how often a heart must be broken + Before the years can make it wise. + + + + + The Long Hill + + + + I must have passed the crest a while ago + And now I am going down-- + Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know, + But the brambles were always catching the hem of my gown. + + All the morning I thought how proud I should be + To stand there straight as a queen, + Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me-- + But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen. + + It was nearly level along the beaten track + And the brambles caught in my gown-- + But it's no use now to think of turning back, + The rest of the way will be only going down. + + + + + + + XI + + + + + + + Summer Storm + + + + The panther wind + Leaps out of the night, + The snake of lightning + Is twisting and white, + The lion of thunder + Roars--and we + Sit still and content + Under a tree-- + We have met fate together + And love and pain, + Why should we fear + The wrath of the rain! + + + + + In the End + + + + All that could never be said, + All that could never be done, + Wait for us at last + Somewhere back of the sun; + + All the heart broke to forego + Shall be ours without pain, + We shall take them as lightly as girls + Pluck flowers after rain. + + And when they are ours in the end + Perhaps after all + The skies will not open for us + Nor heaven be there at our call. + + + + + "It Will Not Change" + + + + It will not change now + After so many years; + Life has not broken it + With parting or tears; + Death will not alter it, + It will live on + In all my songs for you + When I am gone. + + + + + Change + + + + Remember me as I was then; + Turn from me now, but always see + The laughing shadowy girl who stood + At midnight by the flowering tree, + With eyes that love had made as bright + As the trembling stars of the summer night. + + Turn from me now, but always hear + The muted laughter in the dew + Of that one year of youth we had, + The only youth we ever knew-- + Turn from me now, or you will see + What other years have done to me. + + + + + Water Lilies + + + + 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. + + + + + "Did You Never Know?" + + + + Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me-- + That your love would never lessen and never go? + You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted, + You were too young to know. + + Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before it + Far apart, far away in the gusty time of year-- + Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking, + I know your secret, my dear, my dear. + + + + + The Treasure + + + + When they see my songs + They will sigh and say, + "Poor soul, wistful soul, + Lonely night and day." + + They will never know + All your love for me + Surer than the spring, + Stronger than the sea; + + Hidden out of sight + Like a miser's gold + In forsaken fields + Where the wind is cold. + + + + + The Storm + + + + I thought of you when I was wakened + By a wind that made me glad and afraid + Of the rushing, pouring sound of the sea + That the great trees made. + + One thought in my mind went over and over + While the darkness shook and the leaves were thinned-- + I thought it was you who had come to find me, + You were the wind. + + + + + + + Songs For Myself + XII + + + + + + + The Tree + + + + Oh to be free of myself, + With nothing left to remember, + To have my heart as bare + As a tree in December; + + Resting, as a tree rests + After its leaves are gone, + Waiting no more for a rain at night + Nor for the red at dawn; + + But still, oh so still + While the winds come and go, + With no more fear of the hard frost + Or the bright burden of snow; + + And heedless, heedless + If anyone pass and see + On the white page of the sky + Its thin black tracery. + + + + + At Midnight + + + + Now at last I have come to see what life is, + Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun, + And the brave victories that seem so splendid + Are never really won. + + Even love that I built my spirit's house for, + Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest, + And music and men's praise and even laughter + Are not so good as rest. + + + + + Song Making + + + + My heart cried like a beaten child + Ceaselessly all night long; + I had to take my own cries + And thread them into a song. + + One was a cry at black midnight + And one when the first cock crew-- + My heart was like a beaten child, + But no one ever knew. + + Life, you have put me in your debt + And I must serve you long-- + But oh, the debt is terrible + That must be paid in song. + + + + + Alone + + + + I am alone, in spite of love, + In spite of all I take and give-- + In spite of all your tenderness, + Sometimes I am not glad to live. + + I am alone, as though I stood + On the highest peak of the tired gray world, + About me only swirling snow, + Above me, endless space unfurled; + + With earth hidden and heaven hidden, + And only my own spirit's pride + To keep me from the peace of those + Who are not lonely, having died. + + + + + Red Maples + + + + In the last year I have learned + How few men are worth my trust; + I have seen the friend I loved + Struck by death into the dust, + And fears I never knew before + Have knocked and knocked upon my door-- + "I shall hope little and ask for less," + I said, "There is no happiness." + + I have grown wise at last--but how + Can I hide the gleam on the willow-bough, + Or keep the fragrance out of the rain + Now that April is here again? + When maples stand in a haze of fire + What can I say to the old desire, + What shall I do with the joy in me + That is born out of agony? + + + + + Debtor + + + + So long as my spirit still + Is glad of breath + And lifts its plumes of pride + In the dark face of death; + While I am curious still + Of love and fame, + Keeping my heart too high + For the years to tame, + How can I quarrel with fate + Since I can see + I am a debtor to life, + Not life to me? + + + + + The Wind in the Hemlock + + + + Steely stars and moon of brass, + How mockingly you watch me pass! + You know as well as I how soon + I shall be blind to stars and moon, + Deaf to the wind in the hemlock tree, + Dumb when the brown earth weighs on me. + + With envious dark rage I bear, + Stars, your cold complacent stare; + Heart-broken in my hate look up, + Moon, at your clear immortal cup, + Changing to gold from dusky red-- + Age after age when I am dead + To be filled up with light, and then + Emptied, to be refilled again. + + What has man done that only he + Is slave to death--so brutally + Beaten back into the earth + Impatient for him since his birth? + + Oh let me shut my eyes, close out + The sight of stars and earth and be + Sheltered a minute by this tree. + Hemlock, through your fragrant boughs + There moves no anger and no doubt, + No envy of immortal things. + The night-wind murmurs of the sea + With veiled music ceaselessly, + That to my shaken spirit sings. + From their frail nest the robins rouse, + In your pungent darkness stirred, + Twittering a low drowsy word-- + And me you shelter, even me. + In your quietness you house + The wind, the woman and the bird. + You speak to me and I have heard: + + If I am peaceful, I shall see + Beauty's face continually; + Feeding on her wine and bread + I shall be wholly comforted, + For she can make one day for me + Rich as my lost eternity. + + + + + + + [End of original text.] + + + + +Biographical Note: + + +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), +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. + +---- + +From an anthology of verse by Jessie B. Rittenhouse (1913, 1917): + +"Teasdale, Sara (Mrs. Ernst B. Filsinger). Born in St. Louis, Missouri, +August 10, 1884. Educated at private schools. She is the author +of "Sonnets to Duse", 1907; "Helen of Troy, and Other Poems", 1911; +"Rivers to the Sea", 1915; "Love Songs", 1917. Editor of +"The Answering Voice: A Hundred Love Lyrics by Women", 1917. +Miss Teasdale is a lyric poet of an unusually pure and spontaneous gift." + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Flame and Shadow, by Sara Teasdale + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLAME AND SHADOW *** + +***** This file should be named 591.txt or 591.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/591/ + +Produced by A. Light. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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