SOMEWHERE AN APRIL STAR
[for Sara Teasdale, poetess]
somewhere an April star could chime
the name of Sara Teasdale.
a silvered lace, infinite as Space
composed of flame.
of shadows, light sustained,
weeping over the beautiful.
your poems were canticles and rung
then grew from fashion.
you wrote cloudier poems
then turned from girlhood's fancies
with a stone look, pure distance in your eyes.
Sara, the winds sang all alone
at your demise;
your poems would call you back
from everywhere, the beautiful orphaned,
till the next star chimes in Time
with ever the green of earth imbued.
such poets now are few,
from vale to vanished vale
Sara Teasdale.
mary angela douglas 23 october 2015rev. 24 may 2017
[for Sara Teasdale, poetess]
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
somewhere an April star could chime
the name of Sara Teasdale.
a silvered lace, infinite as Space
composed of flame.
of shadows, light sustained,
weeping over the beautiful.
your poems were canticles and rung
then grew from fashion.
you wrote cloudier poems
then turned from girlhood's fancies
with a stone look, pure distance in your eyes.
Sara, the winds sang all alone
at your demise;
your poems would call you back
from everywhere, the beautiful orphaned,
till the next star chimes in Time
with ever the green of earth imbued.
such poets now are few,
from vale to vanished vale
Sara Teasdale.
mary angela douglas 23 october 2015rev. 24 may 2017
