Blue Squills in  General   

How many million Aprils came
Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
A bed of squills, how blue!

And many a dancing April
When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
And the white flame of the tree.

Oh burn me with your beauty, then,
Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I, through endless sleep,
May bear the scar of you.

By Sara Teasdale

Tell Your Friends About It | Print This Poem

Comments

You should be logged in to be able to leave comments

Other poems by Sara Teasdale:

• A Cry
• A November Night
• After Love
• After Parting
• Alone
• At Midnight
• Barter
• Because
• Blue Squills
• Buried Love
• But Not To Me
• Come
• Debt
• Did You Never Know?
• Doubt
• Dust
• Enough
• Fault
• Gray Eyes
• Guenevere
• Houses Of Dreams
• I Am Not Yours
• I Have Loved Hours At Sea
• I Remembered
• I Thought Of You
• If Death Is Kind
• In The End
• It Is Not A Word
• It Will Not Change
• Jewels
• Let It Be Forgotten
• Like Barley Bending
• Longing
• Love And Death
• My Heart Is Heavy
• Oh You Are Coming
• On A March Day
• Sleepless
• Spring Rain
• The Fountain
• The Ghost
• The Mystery
• The Years
• Tides
• Tonight
• Understanding
• Water Lilies
• What Do I Care?