The Wind

Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale portrait

1884 to 1933

Poem Image

A wind is blowing over my soul,
I hear it cry the whole night through—
Is there no peace for me on earth
Except with you?

Alas, the wind has made me wise,
Over my naked soul it blew,—
There is no peace for me on earth
Even with you.

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Poet portrait