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Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale. By Whitney McCoy and Kristen VanSlyke. Sara Teasdale. Born August 8, 1884 in St. Louis, Missouri Youngest of four children Was always spoiled and waited on like a princess Always very frail and caught diseases easily

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Sara Teasdale

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  1. Sara Teasdale By Whitney McCoy and Kristen VanSlyke

  2. Sara Teasdale • Born August 8, 1884 in St. Louis, Missouri • Youngest of four children • Was always spoiled and waited on like a princess • Always very frail and caught diseases easily • Grew up around adults, and often struggled to entertain herself • Her first poem was “Ready’s Mirror” which was published in the local newspaper • She married Ernst Filsinger in 1914, but divorced in 1929

  3. Sara Teasdale • In 1933, she caught chronic pneumonia, which weakened her in the body, mind, and spirit. • She committed suicide on January 29, 1933 in New York at the age of 48.

  4. A Fantasy Her voice is like clear water That drips upon a stone In forests far and silent Where Quiet plays alone. Her thoughts are like the lotus Abloom by sacred streams Beneath the temple arches Where Quiet sits and dreams. Her kisses are the roses That grow while dusk is deep In Persian garden closes Where Quiet falls asleep.

  5. A little while A little while when I am gone My life will live in music after me, As spun foam lifted and borne on After the wave is lost in the full sea. A while these nights and days will burn In song with the bright frailty of foam, Living in light before they turn Back to the nothingness that is their home.

  6. A winter night My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite. God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow. My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold.

  7. Doctors Every night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and Death, Conferring at my head. They speak in scientific tones, Professional and low— One argues for a speedy cure, The other, sure and slow. To one so humble as myself It should be matter for some pride To have such noted fellows here, Conferring at my side

  8. Grandfathers Love They said he sent his love to me, They wouldn't put it in my hand, And when I asked them where it was They said I couldn't understand. I thought they must have hidden it, I hunted for it all the day, And when I told them so at night They smiled and turned their heads away. They say that love is something kind, That I can never see or touch. I wish he'd sent me something else, I like his cough-drops twice as much.

  9. This poem is about a little child trying to understand the concept of love. Of course, when the child hears he was sent something, he automatically suspects a gift, such as a new toy. However, love is a completely different kind of gift. When the child is explained the concept, he of course wishes her grandfather had sent him/her something more exciting. • Rhyming – 2nd and 4th lines of each stanza • Personification – all over, treating love like a person/object • Have you had a similar experience? • Did you understand love when you were a child? • Do you find this an exaggeration or a common event?

  10. A Song of a Princess The princess has her lovers, A score of knights has she, And each can sing a madrigal, And praise her gracefully. But Love that is so bitter Hath put within her heart A longing for the scornful knight Who silent stands apart. And tho' the others praise and plead, She maketh no reply, Yet for a single word from him, I ween that she would die.

  11. The Years To-night I close my eyes and see A strange procession passing me— The years before I saw your face Go by me with a wistful grace; They pass, the sensitive, shy years, As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears. The years went by and never knew That each one brought me nearer you; Their path was narrow and apart And yet it led me to your heart— Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years, That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.

  12. While I May Wind and hail and veering rain, Driven mist that veils the day, Soul's distress and body's pain, I would bear you while I may. I would love you if I might, For so soon my life will be Buried in a lasting night, Even pain denied to me.

  13. Works Cited • http://famouspoetsandpoems.com/pictures/sara_teasdale.jpg • http://media-2.web.britannica.com/eb-media/85/21485-004-C8023E13.jpg • http://www.links2love.com/love/romance/pictures/woman_klimt_red.jpg • http://theotherpages.org/poems/faces/teasdale_s_01.jpg • http://www.findagrave.com/photos/2003/227/1024_1061085493.gif • http://img.groundspeak.com/waymarking/display/0b09dd92-3e64-4e44-8c16-4c1e3e75681d.JPG • http://www.poemhunter.com/sara-teasdale/ • http://www.poemhunter.com/sara-teasdale/biography/

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