Rivers to the Sea. Sara Teasdale

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Rivers to the Sea - Sara Teasdale

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a terrible whirring deafens my ears.

      The flight is ended.

       We pass thru a door leading onto the ledge—

      Wind, night and space

      Oh terrible height

      Why have we sought you?

      Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings

      Why do you beat us?

      Why would you bear us away?

      We look thru the miles of air,

      The cold blue miles between us and the city,

      Over the edge of eternity we look

      On all the lights,

      A thousand times more numerous than the stars;

      Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains

      That mark for miles and miles

      The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;

      Near us clusters and splashes of living gold

      That change far off to bluish steel

      Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore

      Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.

      The strident noises of the city

      Floating up to us

      Are hallowed into whispers.

      Ferries cross thru the darkness

      Weaving a golden thread into the night,

      Their whistles weird shadows of sound.

       We feel the millions of humanity beneath us,—

      The warm millions, moving under the roofs,

      Consumed by their own desires;

      Preparing food,

      Sobbing alone in a garret,

      With burning eyes bending over a needle,

      Aimlessly reading the evening paper,

      Dancing in the naked light of the café,

      Laying out the dead,

      Bringing a child to birth—

      The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy

      Come up to us

      Like a cold fog wrapping us round.

      Oh in a hundred years

      Not one of these blood-warm bodies

      But will be worthless as clay.

      The anguish, the torpor, the toil

      Will have passed to other millions

      Consumed by the same desires.

      Ages will come and go,

      Darkness will blot the lights

      And the tower will be laid on the earth.

      The sea will remain

      Black and unchanging,

      The stars will look down

      Brilliant and unconcerned.

       Beloved,

      Tho' sorrow, futility, defeat

      Surround us,

      They cannot bear us down.

      Here on the abyss of eternity

      Love has crowned us

      For a moment

      Victors.

      AT NIGHT

       WE are apart; the city grows quiet between us,

      She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,

      The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,

      Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.

       Oh are you asleep, or lying awake, my lover?

      Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words,

      I send you my thoughts-the air between us is laden,

      My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.

      THE YEARS

       TO-NIGHT I close my eyes and see

      A strange procession passing me—

      The years before I saw your face

      Go by me with a wistful grace;

      They pass, the sensitive shy years,

      As one who strives to dance, half blind

      with tears.

       The years went by and never knew

      That each one brought me nearer you;

      Their path was narrow and apart

      And yet it led me to your heart—

      Oh sensitive shy years, oh lonely years,

      That strove to sing with voices drowned

in tears.

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