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.
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.
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.
Come, when the pale moon like a petal Floats in the pearly dusk of spring, Come with outstretched arms 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.
I wear a crown invisible and clear, And go my lifted royal way apart Since you have crowned me softly in your heart With love that is half ardent, half austere; And as a queen disguised might pass anear The bitter crowd that barters in a mart, Veiling her pride while tears of pity start, I hide my glory thru a jealous fear. My crown shall stay a sweet and secret thing Kept pure with prayer at evensong and morn, And when you come to take it from my head, I shall not weep, nor will a word be said, But I shall kneel before you, oh my king, And bind my brow forever with a thorn.
I anyone wonders why this is in alphabetical order, it's because I am copying & pasting from a website. I don't have all of her poetry memorized, but I wanted to post my favorites.
They sent you in to say farewell to me, No, do not shake your head; I see your eyes That shine with tears. Sappho, you saw the sun Just now when you came hither, and again, When you have left me, all the shimmering Great meadows will laugh lightly, and the sun Put round about you warm invisible arms As might a lover, decking you with light. I go toward darkness tho' I lie so still. If I could see the sun, I should look up And drink the light until my eyes were blind; I should kneel down and kiss the blades of grass, And I should call the birds with such a voice, With such a longing, tremulous and keen, That they would fly to me and on the breast Bear evermore to tree-tops and to fields The kiss I gave them. Sappho, tell me this, Was I not sometimes fair? My eyes, my mouth, My hair that loved the wind, were they not worth The breath of love upon them? Yet he passed, And he will pass to-night when all the air Is blue with twilight; but I shall not see. I shall have gone forever. Hold my hands, Hold fast that Death may never come between; Swear by the gods you will not let me go; Make songs for Death as you would sing to Love -- But you will not assuage him. He alone Of all the gods will take no gifts from men. I am afraid, afraid.
Sappho, lean down. Last night the fever gave a dream to me, It takes my life and gives a little dream. I thought I saw him stand, the man I love, Here in my quiet chamber, with his eyes Fixed on me as I entered, while he drew Silently toward me -- he who night by night Goes by my door without a thought of me -- Neared me and put his hand behind my head, And leaning toward me, kissed me on the mouth. That was a little dream for Death to give, Too short to take the whole of life for, yet I woke with lips made quiet by a kiss. The dream is worth the dying. Do not smile So sadly on me with your shining eyes, You who can set your sorrow to a song And ease your hurt by singing. But to me My songs are less than sea-sand that the wind Drives stinging over me and bears away. I have no care what place the grains may fall, Nor of my songs, if Time shall blow them back, As land-wind breaks the lines of dying foam Along the bright wet beaches, scattering The flakes once more against the laboring sea, Into oblivion. What care have I To please Apollo since Love hearkens not? Your words will live forever, men will say "She was the perfect lover" -- I shall die, I loved too much to live. Go Sappho, go -- I hate your hands that beat so full of life, Go, lest my hatred hurt you. I shall die, But you will live to love and love again. He might have loved some other spring than this; I should have kept my life -- I let it go. He would not love me now tho' Cypris bound Her girdle round me. I am Death's, not Love's. Go from me, Sappho, back to find the sun.
I am afraid, oh I am so afraid! The cold black fear is clutching me to-night As long ago when they would take the light And leave the little child who would have prayed, Frozen and sleepless at the thought of death. My heart that beats too fast will rest too soon; I shall not know if it be night or noon, -- Yet shall I struggle in the dark for breath? Will no one fight the Terror for my sake, The heavy darkness that no dawn will break? How can they leave me in that dark alone, Who loved the joy of light and warmth so much, And thrilled so with the sense of sound and touch, -- How can they shut me underneath a stone?
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.
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.
One by one, like leaves from a tree All my faiths have forsaken me; But the stars above my head Burn in white and delicate red, And beneath my feet the earth Brings the sturdy grass to birth. I who was content to be But a silken-singing tree, But a rustle of delight In the wistful heart of night-- I have lost the leaves that knew Touch of rain and weight of dew. Blinded by a leafy crown I looked neither up nor down-- But the little leaves that die Have left me room to see the sky; Now for the first time I know Stars above and earth below.
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.
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?
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.
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?
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?
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.
Oh chimes set high on the sunny tower Ring on, ring on unendingly, Make all the hours a single hour, For when the dusk begins to flower, The man I love will come to me! . . .
But no, go slowly as you will, I should not bid you hasten so, For while I wait for love to come, Some other girl is standing dumb, Fearing her love will go.
II
Oh white steam over the roofs, blow high! Oh chimes in the tower ring clear and free ! Oh sun awake in the covered sky, For the man I love, loves me I . . .
Oh drifting steam disperse and die, Oh tower stand shrouded toward the south,-- Fate heard afar my happy cry, And laid her finger on my mouth.
III
The dusk was blue with blowing mist, The lights were spangles in a veil, And from the clamor far below Floated faint music like a wail.
It voiced what I shall never speak, My heart was breaking all night long, But when the dawn was hard and gray, My tears distilled into a song.
IV
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."
Was that his step that sounded on the stair? Was that his knock I heard upon the door? I grow so tired I almost cease to care, And yet I would that he might come once more.
It was the wind I heard, that mocks at me, The bitter wind that is more cruel than he; It was the wind that knocked upon the door, But he will never knock nor enter more.
A thousand miles beyond this sun-steeped wall Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand, The ebbing tide forsakes the listless land With the old murmur, long and musical; The windy waves mount up and curve and fall, And round the rocks the foam blows up like snow,-- Tho' I am inland far, I hear and know, For I was born the sea's eternal thrall. I would that I were there and over me The cold insistence of the tide would roll, Quenching this burning thing men call the soul,-- Then with the ebbing I should drift and be Less than the smallest shell along the shoal, Less than the sea-gulls calling to the sea.
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.
When you were born, beloved, was your soul New made by God to match your body's flower, And were they both at one same precious hour Sent forth from heaven as a perfect whole? Or had your soul since dim creation burned, A star in some still region of the sky, That leaping earthward, left its place on high And to your little new-born body yearned? No words can tell in what celestial hour God made your soul and gave it mortal birth, Nor in the disarray of all the stars Is any place so sweet that such a flower Might linger there until thro' heaven's bars, It heard God's voice that bade it down to earth.
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.
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.
Your mind and mine are such great lovers they Have freed themselves from cautious human clay, And on wild clouds of thought, naked together They ride above us in extreme delight; We see them, we look up with a lone envy And watch them in their zone of crystal weather That changes not for winter or the night.
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Alright. If you plan on critiquing this, please be gentle as it took me countless hours to write (even such a small amount). I wrote this about a year ago all by myself. I have another sample of a part of a screenplay I wrote with my boyfriend, but I w
Sara Teasdale
Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
And make his casement fine.
And if I were the little bird
That twitters on the tree,
All day I'd sing my love for him
Till he should harken me.
But since I am a maiden
I go with downcast eyes,
And he will never hear the songs
That he has turned to sighs.
And since I am a maiden
My love will never know
That I could kiss him with a mouth
More red than roses blow.