The Look -- Sara Teasdale

(Poem #937) The Look Strephon kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Strephon's kiss was lost in jest, Robin's lost in play, But the kiss in Colin's eyes Haunts me night and day. -- Sara Teasdale

A delicately beautiful little poem - I love both the central image, and the
light, sure touch with which Teasdale develops it. And, as usual with
Teasdale's poetry, the combination of quietness and power, both masked by an
apparent simplicity, is nothing short of impressive.

There is, however (and unusually enough that I wonder if I'm misscanning the
poem), a slight roughness to the seventh line - I keep wanting to insert an
'oh,' after the 'but' to restore the regular iambic pattern. Comments?

Links:

 Biography: See Poem #113

 Teasdale poems on Minstrels:
   Poem #464, "Central Park at Dusk"
   Poem #113, "Morning"
   Poem #223, "There Will Come Soft Rains"
   Poem #430, "Wild Asters"

-martin