Sharing more of Sara Teasdale:
Sara Teasdale possessed both intuition and insight in addition to imagination and an exquisite lyric gift. She indeed worked “in the changeless feelings of men,” more particularly of women, and her theme was love, in all its facets of beauty, comfort, and tragedy. Her poetry is personal, drawn from her own deepest emotional experience, and it evokes an almost immediate empathetic response. “I try to say what moves me,” she said once in an interview. “I never care to surprise my reader.” Thus, as might be expected from this statement, simplicity is the hallmark of her poetry, but–caveat lector!–“simplicity, the greatest of all arts,” is not the same thing as simple-mindedness. The sophisticated reader quickly discovers that Teasdale simplicity can be highly deceptive.
by Sara Teasdale
When I have ceased to break my wings
against the faultiness of things,
and learned that compromises wait
behind each hardly opened gate,
when I can look Life in the eyes,
grown calm and very coldly wise,
Life will have given me the Truth,
and taken….in exchange….my youth.
I cannot die, who drank delight
From the cup of the crescent moon,
And hungrily as men eat bread,
Loved the scented nights of June.
The rest may die–but is there not
Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
Excerpt above about Teasdale from Imaginary Gardens by Rosemary Sprague.
Photography: Monika Stojak