But Not To Me in  General   

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
But not to me.

My peace is hidden in his breast
Where I shall never be;
Love comes to-night to all the rest,
But not to me.

By Sara Teasdale

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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?