Sunday, June 21, 2009


    COME, when the pale moon like a petal
    Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
    Come with outstretched arms to take me,
    Come with lips pursed up to cling.

    Come, for life is a frail moth flying
    Caught in the web of the years that pass,
    And soon we two,so warm and eager,
    Will be as the gray stones in the grass.

    Sara Teasdale

No comments:

Post a Comment