Gramercy Park
Sara Teasdale
1884 to 1933
The little park was filled with peace,
The walks were carpeted with snow,
But every iron gate was locked,
Lest if we entered, peace would go.
We circled it a dozen times,
The wind was blowing from the sea,
I only felt your restless eyes
Whose love was like a cloak for me.
Oh heavy gates that fate has locked
To bar the joy we can not win.
Peace would go out forever
If we should enter in.
Sara Teasdale's Gramercy Park
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