Moonlight by Sara Teasdale
It’s fairly rare that I don’t post the PotD until nighttime, so I thought I’d go with this one to commemorate my laziness today.
Moonlight
By Sara Teasdale
It will not hurt me when I am old,
A running tide where moonlight burned
Will not sting me like silver snakes;
The years will make me sad and cold,
It is the happy heart that breaks.
The heart asks more than life can give,
When that is learned, then all is learned;
The waves break fold on jewelled fold,
But beauty itself is fugitive,
It will not hurt me when I am old.
