I don’t recall every encountering any poems at all by Sara Teasdale. She was born in St Louis, says Wikipedia, which makes her a close neighbor removed in time. Died in 1933, the year before my mother was born. How long ago that seems, but it really wasn’t. I probably wouldn’t pick up a Historical set in the 1930s — not long enough ago for my tastes.
Her poem “There Will Come Soft Rains” from her 1920 collection Flame and Shadow inspired and is featured in a famous short story of the same name by Ray Bradbury. Not a cheerful story. You can click through and read that poem if you like, but here are a few others — also not necessarily cheerful, though the last is a love poem.
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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.
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Leaves
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.
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Swans
Night is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem to heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are—your gaze is on my face—
We watch the swans and never a word is said.
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Image from Unsplash
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I have two slim hardcover volumes of Teasdale’s poetry I came across at a book sale at the Kirkwood Public Library (suburb of St. Louis), Flame and Shadow and Dark of the Moon which I believe are both available now at Project Gutenberg. I hadn’t heard of her either before picking up these volumes off the sale shelf due to the evocative titles!
Some of the poems in Flame and Shadow I think were written during the flu pandemic at the time, referring to time spent in a hospital. I think that besides There Will Come Soft Rains her love poems are the ones that have had traction, but my favorites are her observations of nature and her ability to capture the quiet moments of life.
I’m fond of this one, particularly the opening lines:
The Crystal Gazer
I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.
I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,
Watching the future come and the present go,
And the little shifting pictures of people rushing
In restless self-importance to and fro.
Thank you, Sandstone! That’s lovely.
I’ve been gathering Sara Teasdale quotes for a story I’m working on.
My favorite so far is this:
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.
-Sara Teasdale, To E.
Very nice, Evelyn! Personally, I always appreciate poetry added to a story!
It can be interesting in high fantasy, where you have to make it fit the world. In Witch Prince Ways I used some Mother-Goose-like rhymes to open and close it.
The most fun criticism to juggle is when one beta reader objects to something, and another singles it out for praise. (I kept them.)