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Teasdale, Sara, 1884-1933

"Helen of Troy and Other Poems"


Our love is dying like the grass,
And we who kissed grow coldly kind,
Half glad to see our poor love pass
Like leaves along the wind.


A Song of the Princess

The princess has her lovers,
A score of knights has she,
And each can sing a madrigal,
And praise her gracefully.
But Love that is so bitter
Hath put within her heart
A longing for the scornful knight
Who silent stands apart.
And tho' the others praise and plead,
She maketh no reply,
Yet for a single word from him,
I ween that she would die.


The Wind

A wind is blowing over my soul,
I hear it cry the whole night thro' --
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.


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.


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