About Sara Teasdale: Sara Teasdale was an American lyric poet. She was born Sara Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914.
It was a night of early spring, The winter-sleep was scarcely broken; Around us shadows and the wind Listened for what was never spoken. Though half a score of years are gone, Spring comes as sharply now as then— But if we had it all to do It would...
In my heart's most secret place, I pity them as angels do.
Oh who can tell the range of joy or set the bounds of beauty?
Beauty, more than bitterness, makes the heart break.
You will recognize your own path when you come upon it, because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need.
Though I know he loves me, tonight my heart is sad; his kiss was not so wonderful as all the dreams I had.
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.
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.
There's nothing half so real in life as the things you've done... inexorably, unalterably done.
A hush is over everything, Silent as women wait for love; The world is waiting for the spring.
Wisdom is not acquired save as the result of investigation.
