|
|
Alone
By Sara Teasdale
I am alone, in spite of love,
In spite of all I take and give,
In spite of all your tenderness,
Sometimes I am not glad to live.
I am alone, as though I stood
On the highest peak of the tired gray world,
About me only swirling snow,
Above me, endless space unfurled;
With earth hidden and heaven hidden,
And only my own spirit's pride
To keep me from the peace of those
Who are not lonely, having died.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 1465 times.
|
|
