Sara Teasdale: Alone

Sara Teasdale

(1884 – 1933)

 

Alone

 

I am alone, in spite of love,

In spite of all I take and give–

In spite of all your tenderness,

Sometimes I am not glad to live.

 

I am alone, as though I stood

On the highest peak of the tired gray world,

About me only swirling snow,

Above me, endless space unfurled;

 

With earth hidden and heaven hidden,

And only my own spirit’s pride

To keep me from the peace of those

Who are not lonely, having died.

 

Sara Teasdale poetry

fleursdumal.nl magazine

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