Guest poem sent in by Priscilla Jebaraj , who writes: i just loved the last poem (Each in his own Tongue, Poem #1197): as you said, both the imagery and attitude are lovely. i was looking for another poem i once read on finding God in the world around us, in our daily lives; but i just couldn't find it, even with a google search. i'm sure i've got a hard copy somewhere, so maybe i'll send it some other time. but when i did that google search, i discovered this other gem of a poem, and just had to send it:
(Poem #1198) The Tree of Song
I sang my songs for the rest, For you I am still; The tree of my song is bare On its shining hill. For you came like a lordly wind, And the leaves were whirled Far as forgotten things Past the rim of the world. The tree of my song stands bare Against the blue -- I gave my songs to the rest, Myself to you.
Something about this poem just struck a chord within me, but i'm not sure i can explain WHY i like it in a very intelligible manner. there's just something about it... of its image of a love that sweeps you off your feet, so much so that the usual expressions of love seem insignificant. and a love which requires the gift of oneself. maybe i'm over-reacting to what is after all a simple love poem, (and no, i'm *not* in love right now!) but i just liked the poem. priscilla i found lots more teasdale poems on the net, but precious little biographical material. here's what i got from the mount holyoke college archives: Sara Teasdale, an American poet, was born in 1884 in Saint Louis, Missouri to John W. Teasdale and Mary E. Willard. She was tutored at home and then graduated from a local private school in 1903. In 1905 she visited Europe and in 1907 she published her first collection of poems. In 1911, the publication of "Helen of Troy" introduced her to Louis Untermeyer, who, with his wife Jean, was to become a lifelong friend. On December 19, 1914, she married Ernst B. Filsinger. They divorced fifteen years later. Following the divorce, she published numerous volumes of poetry. Sara Teasdale committed suicide on January 29, 1933 in New York. and here's a link to her poems: http://www.poemhunter.com/p/t/poet.asp?poet=3104 priscilla