Sara Teasdale

Here you will find the Long Poem Young Love of poet Sara Teasdale

Young Love


I cannot heed the words they say, 
The lights grow far away and dim, 
Amid the laughing men and maids 
My eyes unbidden seek for him.

I hope that when he smiles at me 
He does not guess my joy and pain, 
For if he did, he is too kind 
To ever look my way again.


I have a secret in my heart 
No ears have ever heard, 
And still it sings there day by day 
Most like a caged bird.

And when it beats against the bars, 
I do not set it free, 
For I am happier to know 
It only sings for me.


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?


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?


O dreams that flock about my sleep, 
I pray you bring my love to me, 
And let me think I hear his voice 
Again ring free.

And if you care to please me well, 
And live to-morrow in my mind, 
Let him who was so cold before, 
To-night seem kind.


I plucked a daisy in the fields, 
And there beneath the sun 
I let its silver petals fall 
One after one.

I said, "He loves me, loves me not," 
And oh, my heart beat fast, 
The flower was kind, it let me say 
"He loves me," last.

I kissed the little leafless stem, 
But oh, my poor heart knew 
The words the flower had said to me, 
They were not true.


I sent my love a letter, 
And if he loves me not, 
He shall not find my love for him 
In any line or dot.

But if he loves me truly, 
He'll find it hidden deep, 
As dawn gleams red thro' chilly clouds 
To eyes awaked from sleep.


The world is cold and gray and wet, 
And I am heavy-hearted, yet 
When I am home and look to see 
The place my letters wait for me, 
If I should find one letter there, 
I think I should not greatly care 
If it were rainy or were fair, 
For all the world would suddenly 
Seem like a festival to me.


I hid three words within my heart, 
That longed to fly to him, 
At dawn they woke me with a start, 
They sang till day was dim.

And now at last I let them fly, 
As little birds should do, 
And he will know the first is "I", 
The others "Love" and "You".


Across the twilight's violet 
His curtained window glimmers gold; 
Oh happy light that round my love 
Can fold.

Oh happy book within his hand, 
Oh happy page he glorifies, 
Oh happy little word beneath 
His eyes.

But oh, thrice happy, happy I 
Who love him more than songs can tell, 
For in the heaven of his heart 
I dwell.