Only In Sleep

Sara TeasdaleSara Teasdale

1 min read · 12.5K reads

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.Only in sleep Time is forgotten —
What may have come to them, who can know?
Yet we played last night as long ago,
And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild —
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child?
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

More Poetry & Stories You May Like