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Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale
page 63 of 89 (70%)
One among many who are thrilled to feel
The first keen sea-breath from the open sea.




THE LIGHTS OF NEW YORK

THE lightning spun your garment for the night
Of silver filaments with fire shot thru,
A broidery of lamps that lit for you
The steadfast splendor of enduring light.
The moon drifts dimly in the heaven's height,
Watching with wonder how the earth she knew
That lay so long wrapped deep in dark and dew,
Should wear upon her breast a star so white.
The festivals of Babylon were dark
With flaring flambeaux that the wind blew down;
The Saturnalia were a wild boy's lark
With rain-quenched torches dripping thru the town--
But you have found a god and filched from him
A fire that neither wind nor rain can dim.




SEA LONGING

A THOUSAND miles beyond this sun-steeped wall
Somewhere the waves creep cool along the sand,
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