Bonnie Hamre: Sara Teasdale Page

Sara Teasdale
1884 - 1933

Years ago, suffering from first love lost, I picked up my mother's book of poetry and fell in love with the poems of Sara Teasdale. My mother smiled, seeing in me another woman who believed Sara spoke only to her.

And why not? For whom else could the following possibly be written?

Advice to a Girl

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed;
Lay that on your heart,
My young angry dear;
This truth, this hard and precious stone,
Lay it on your hot cheek,
Let it hide your tear.
Hold it like a crystal
When you are alone
And gaze in the depths of the icy stone.
Long, look long and you will be blessed:
No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

I grew older and as the pain lessened, I forgot the comfort I had found in Sara's poetry and eventually forgot about her.

That is, until I "found" her again by accident, browsing on the web, and re-read some of her poems. I felt a wealth of emotions, an intensity I hadn't felt in a long time. Fascinated, I read more, learning about the woman who lived at the turn of the century, through World War I, the 20's and the early thirties.

Much of the passion she imbued in her words can be dismissed as facile sentiment. Until you think twice, and the fervor, the very real awareness seeps through your conscious and you vibrate with empathy.

Sara married, disliked it, divorced and never tried again. Her emotions, rubbed raw by this experience, imbue her poetry with a certain bitterness, but as the years passed, and she battled with the manic depression that hospitalized her, she gained a sense of peace, of her own place in time.

Did you know she won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1918 for Love Songs?

Love Songs

To E.

I have remembered beauty in the night,
Against black silences I waked to see
A shower of sunlight over Italy
And green Ravello dreaming on her height;
I have remembered music in the dark,
The clean swift brightness of a fugue of Bach's,
And running water singing on the rocks
When once in English woods I heard a lark.

But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you --
You are the rarest soul I ever knew,
Lover of beauty, knightliest and best;
My thoughts seek you as waves that seek the shore,
And when I think of you, I am at rest.

Let It Be Forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten forever 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.

The Solitary

My heart has grown rich with the passing of years,
   I have less need now than when I was young
To share myself with every comer
   Or shape my thoughts into words with my tongue.

It is one to me that they come or go
   If I have myself and the drive of my will,
And strength to climb on a summer night
   And watch the stars swarm over the hill.

Let them think I love them more than I do,
   Let them think I care, though I go alone;
If it lifts their pride, what is it to me
   Who am self-complete as a flower or a stone.

And for a reader who requested it:

February Twilight

I stood beside a hill
Smooth with new-laid snow,
A single star looked out
From the cold evening glow.

There was no other creature
That saw what I could see--
I stood and watched the evening star
As long as it watched me.

Now that I am older, and hopefully wiser than I was when Sara Teasdale first spoke to my aching heart, I find her words still hold prescience -- and comfort.

She thought she'd soon be forgotten, as you can tell from her words:

A Little While

A little while when I am gone
My life will live in music after me,
As spun foam lifted and borne on
After the wave is lost in the full sea.

A while these nights and days will burn
In song with the bright frailty of foam,
Living in light before they turn
Back to the nothingness that is their home.

But she hasn't been forgotten. I am not alone in treasuring her words. Would you like to see what others have to say about Sara Teasdale? Or read more poetry by Sara Teasdale?

Many readers have written me asking for biographical information about Sara. There is a wonderful biography, Sara Teasdale, Woman & Poet, written by William Drake, published by Harper & Row in 1979. There may be a copy in your public library.

PLEASE NOTE:
Due to increasing demands on my schedule, I can no longer respond to e-mails asking for more information about Sara Teasdale. My apologies if you've written and I haven't answered you. I'm thrilled to hear from you when you write to share what her poetry means to you, but I can't take on any more homework projects. Instead, add your comments to the Sara Teasdale Guest Book!

Apologies as well to those who signed up for a newsletter I never had time to write and send out. Please be assured your email addresses are not used for anything else.

In case you are wondering what has been taking up my time, I am happy to report that my own writing career is doing very nicely. You'll find all the details on my Bonnie Hamre Home Page

Would you like to know more about Sara, born Sarah Trevor?
More poetry by Sara Teasdale
Reader's Comments
Biographical Information about Sara Teasdale

The Gutenberg Project
Sara Teasdale - Brief Biography
Sara Teasdale

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