Desert Pools
Sara Teasdale
1884 to 1933
I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.
His feet will turn to desert places
Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,
Where stars stare down with sharpened faces
From heavens pitilessly blue.
And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In stagnant water keen as fire.
Sara Teasdale's Desert Pools
I am busy working to bring Sara Teasdale's "Desert Pools" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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