Dew

Sara TeasdaleSara Teasdale

1 min read · 12.5K reads

I dream that he is mine,
I dream that he is true,
And all his words I keep
As rose-leaves hold the dew.O little thirsty rose,
O little heart beware,
Lest you should hope to hold
A hundred roses’ share.
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Sara Teasdale
About the poet

Sara Teasdale

1884 - 1933/Female/AmericanA lyric poet who wrote collections mostly about her loneliness.

View profile & all 50 Poems / Stories

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    Peace flows into meAs the tide to the pool by the shore;

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    Every night I lie awakeAnd every day I lie abed

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    Into my heart’s treasuryI slipped a coin

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    You bound strong sandals on my feet,You gave me bread and wine,

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