Helen of Troy and Other Poems by Sara Teasdale
page 54 of 92 (58%)
page 54 of 92 (58%)
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III I wrote his name along the beach, I love the letters so. Far up it seemed and out of reach, For still the tide was low. But oh, the sea came creeping up, And washed the name away, And on the sand where it had been A bit of sea-grass lay. A bit of sea-grass on the sand, Dropped from a mermaid's hair -- Ah, had she come to kiss his name And leave a token there? IV What am I that he should love me, He who stands so far above me, What am I? I am like a cowslip turning Toward the sky, Where a planet's golden burning Breaks the cowslip's heart with yearning, What am I that he should love me, What am I? |
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