#sara teasdale Tumblr posts

  • I sought among the drifting leaves…

    The golden leaves that once were green,
    To see if Love were hiding there
    And peeping out between.

    ― Sara Teasdale

    #original photographs and edit #my edit and textures #abstract#autumn#sara teasdale#windingnumbers-unwind
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  • Over the downs there were birds flying,
    Far off glittered the sea,
    And toward the north the weald of Sussex
    Lay like a kingdom under me.

    I was happier than the larks
    That nest on the downs and sing to the sky,
    Over the downs the birds flying
    Were not so happy as I.

    It was not you, though you were near,
    Though you were good to hear and see,
    It was not earth, it was not heaven
    It was myself that sang in me.

    #on the sussex downs #sara teasdale
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  • “i saw above a sea of hills
    a solitary planet shine
    and there was no one, near or far,
    to keep the world from being mine”

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  • 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.


    White Fog by Sara Teasdale

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  • 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.


    Gray Fog by Sara Teasdale

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  • 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.

    ― Sarah Teasdale

    [Created using photos provided by my dear friend Ana. Additional layers and textures by me.]

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  • Some of y'all never discovered a relatively unknown poetess and realized that you like poetry only to find out that none of the poetry you read after said poetess hits the same and now you’re just rereading her poems until you hopefully find another similarly good poet and it shows

    (This is about Sara Teasdale, pls read her poems, they are so good)

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  • The Seine flows out of the mist
    And into the mist again;
    The trees lean over the water, 
    The small leaves fall like rain. 

    The leaves fall patiently,
    Nothing remembers or grieves; 
    The river takes to the sea
    The yellow drift of the leaves.

    Milky and cold is the air,
    The leaves float with the stream,
    The river comes out of a sleep
    And goes away in a dream.


    September Day (Pont de Neuilly) by Sara Teasdale

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  • 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 Garden by Sara Teasdale

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  • There Will Come Soft Rains

    Sara Teasdale


    (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.

    #poetry#sara teasdale #poems on life
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  • image

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    Weariness.

    Sara Teasdale

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  •   With the man I love who loves me not,
       I walked in the street-lamps’ flare;
    We watched the world go home that night
       In a flood through Union Square.

    I leaned to catch the words he said
       That were light as a snowflake falling;
    Ah well that he never leaned to hear
       The words my heart was calling.

    And on we walked and on we walked
       Past the fiery lights of the picture shows —
    Where the girls with thirsty eyes go by
       On the errand each man knows.

    And on we walked and on we walked,
       At the door at last we said good-bye;
    I knew by his smile he had not heard
       My heart’s unuttered cry.

    With the man I love who loves me not
       I walked in the street-lamps’ flare —
    But oh, the girls who ask for love
       In the lights of Union Square.


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  •  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.

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  • Now while my lips are living

    Their words must stay unsaid,

    And will my soul remember

    To speak when I am dead?


    Yet if my soul remembered

    You would not hear it, dear,

    For now you must not listen,

    And then you could not hear.


    - Sara Teasdale, After Death

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  • well i haven’t managed to write anything, but I have a list of 64 different lines from Sara Teasdale poems that could be used for fic titles, so there’s that at least!

    #i really love sara teasdale
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  • 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.


    Refuge by Sara Teasdale

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  • #poetry#sara teasdale #the faëry forest #the collected poems of sara teasdale #literature#poem#lit #from my collection #fave
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  • Gather together, against the coming of night,

    All that we played with here,

    Toys and fruits, the quill from the sea-bird’s flight,

    The small flute, hollow and clear;

    The apple that was not eaten, the grapes untasted—

    Let them be put away.

    They served for us, I would not have them wasted,

    They lasted out our day.


    In A Darkening Garden by Sara Teasdale

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