Who is Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914.In 1918 she won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1917 poetry collection Love Songs.


Sara Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. She had poor health for much of her childhood, so she was home schooled until age 9. It was at age 10 that she was well enough to begin school. She started a...
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Sara Teasdale Poems

  • Sara Teasdale
    Across the dimly lighted room
    The violin drew wefts of sound,
    Airily they wove and wound
    And glimmered gold against the gloom. ...
  • It Is Not A Word Spoken
    It is not a word spoken,
    Few words are said;
    Nor even a look of the eyes
    Nor a bend of the head, ...
  • A Song To Eleonora Duse In "francesca Da Rimini "
    Oh would I were the roses, that lie against her hands,
    The heavy burning roses she touches as she stands!
    Dear hands that hold the roses, where mine would love to be,
    Oh leave, oh leave the roses, and hold the hands of me! ...
  • Did You Never Know
    Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me,
    That your love would never lessen and never go?
    You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,
    You were too young to know. ...
  • To A Picture Of Eleonora Duse As "francesca Da Rimini"
    Oh flower-sweet face and bended flower-like head!
    Oh violet whose purple cannot pale,
    Or forest fragrance ever faint or fail,
    Or breath and beauty pass among the dead! ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Sara Teasdale

Love 137 I Love You 137 Night 121 Heart 119 Sea 91 Long 72 Light 69 Never 68 Wind 68 Song 62

Sara Teasdale Quotes

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Comments about Sara Teasdale

Followmechina: i make the most of all that comes, and the least of all that goes. ~sara teasdale
__melisende__: "there is a quiet at the heart of love, and i have pierced the pain and come to peace.” - sara teasdale
Missellanson: a hush is over everything, silent as women wait for love; the world is waiting for the spring. sara teasdale
Followmechina: i make the most of all that comes, and the least of all that goes. ~sara teasdale
Rk70534: a song of the princess by sara teasdale
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Poem of the day

Emily Dickinson Poem
I-ll Tell You How The Sun Rose
 by Emily Dickinson

I-ll tell you how the sun rose, -
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,

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