Jewels by Sara Teasdale
This was a reader suggested poem (thanks!). I’ve never actually read a collection of Sara Teasdale’s work, but I have been impressed by everything of hers that I’ve read. This is no exception.
Jewels
Sara Teasdale
If I should see your eyes again,
I know how far their look would go—
Back to a morning in the park
With sapphire shadows on the snow.
Or back to oak trees in the spring
When you unloosed my hair and kissed
The head that lay against your knees
In the leaf shadow’s amethyst.
And still another shining place
We would remember—how the dun
Wild mountain held us on its crest
One diamond morning white with sun.
But I will turn my eyes from you
As women turn to put away
The jewels they have worn at night
And cannot wear in sober day.
I really like this one…thanks
I think I need to read more of Sara Teasdale, I’ve liked everything I’ve read by her.
My own belief, or at least one I’ve stolen and forgotten where I got it from, is that both Teasdale and Millay got stomped by academics who found poets like T.S. Eliot much more useful for building scholary reputations.
Why? All sorts of obscure references and analogies to reference and look up. Heck, even bits of latin! So why teach something attainable to a common reader? Emotions… everyday metaphors. Bah. Things a reader could understand without an advanced degree? Who needs *that*? Especially if you’ve already *got* an advanced degree! And time on your hands and a reputation to build. Not to mention citation counts to accumulate, and tenure and advancment to earn!
I mean, really. One just can’t have just anyone understanding and debating the merits of a poem, people who, heavens, just picked the poem up and read through it. With no research! The university system would collapse. And *then* who would teach English literature and raise the next generation of professors?
Sorry about the rant. But I think this next century will be kinder to many of the (often female) poets of the early part of our last century. They were perhaps less sharp in their references to past literature, but I do think they did just as well cutting a fine edge with their choice of words, their subtle expression of feelings in a chosen few words, and ability to bring readers back to their own everyday world with new perspectives and insight.
Firstly, I love your site! Follow it everyday, and truly appreciate the diversity of all the poems published here. So…thanks.
Sara Teasdale’s life story is rather sad. Wonder how extreme sadness can always produce such beautiful poems. Always thought it was ironic.
I agree, Thrush, her life seemed a struggle — and her poems more often than not reflected that fight. This one poem has stayed with me, and might explain much about her life. Perhaps she just never bothered to write while she was happy, or took some solice in turning sad events into good poetry:
Debt
(Sarah Teasdale)
What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Or gave my heart a song.
But oh, to him I loved,
Who loved me not at all,
I owe the open gate
That led through heaven’s wall.