A thought provoking collection of Creative Quotations from Sara Teasdale (1884-1933); born on Aug 8. US author, poet; Her writings include “Rivers to the Sea,” 1915 and “Stars Tonight,” 1930.
A poem by Sara Teasdale Music: Havanaise in E major Op. 83
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Lyrics Sara Teasdale (1917?) Music Jake Riviera (1979) For Ingo Schantz & Andy Lunn Recorded 1979 @Hotline Studios, Frankfurt ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Your eyes drink of me, love makes them shine Your eyes that lean so close to mine. We have long been lovers, we know the range Of each other’s moods and how they change. But when we look at each other so Then we feel how little we know, how little we know.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. [interlude] We have long been lovers, we know the range Of each other’s moods and how they change And how they change, change, change.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. My, my, my my mystery.. [repeat & fade] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ In 1884, Sara Trevor Teasdale was born in St. Louis, Missouri, into an old, established, and devout family. She was home-schooled until she was nine and traveled frequently to Chicago, where she became part of the circle surrounding Poetry magazine and Harriet Monroe. Teasdale published Sonnets to Duse, and Other Poems, her first volume of verse, in 1907. Her second collection, Helen of Troy, and Other Poems, followed in 1911, and her third, Rivers to the Sea, in 1915. In 1914 Teasdale married Ernst Filsinger; she had previously rejected a number of other suitors, including Vachel Lindsay. She moved with her new husband to New York City in 1916. In 1918, she won the Columbia University Poetry Society Prize …
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Some cool Sara Teasdale images:
Image by The Wandering Angel
I should be glad of loneliness
And hours that go on broken wings,
A thirsty body, a tired heart
And the unchanging ache of things,
If I could make a single song
As lovely and as full of light,
As hushed and brief as a falling star
On a winter night.
Image by laihiu
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.
~ Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 — January 29, 1933) Per Wikipedia, the 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. This is in elegy to Ray Bradbury. On our society’s present course, I despair that any of his visions shall come true. Photo credits: Flower In Cemetery – Mike Franks; Flowers In Cemetery – LateFines; White Plum Tree – Moosey’s Country Garden; Robin On Wire – Carmelo Turdo. Images from the Internet. There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone. — Sara Teasdale (published 1920)
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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. –Sara Teasdale
The kings they came from out the south, All dressed in ermine fine; They bore Him gold and chrysoprase, And gifts of precious wine. The shepherds came from out the north, Their coats were brown and old; They brought Him little new-born lambs– They had not any gold. The wise men came from out the east, And they were wrapped in white; The star that led them all the way Did glorify the night. The angels came from heaven high, And they were clad with wings; And lo, they brought a joyful song The host of heaven sings. The kings they knocked upon the door, The wise men entered in, The shepherds followed after them To hear the song begin. The angels sang through all the night Until the rising sun, But little Jesus fell asleep Before the song was done. Read by Jean Aked