I have always admired Sara Teasdale's ability to write so succintly, yet so evocatively, kinda like the principles of what haikuists try to achieve. I grew up reading Teasdale, among the other classical poets, Wordsworth, Shakespeare, Poe; and it's strange how the lady in classical literature is less recognised; goes to show you how anti-feminist it was back then. All the while still, her words are appreciated to this day, "I am not yours" by Sara Teasdale.
"I am not yours"
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Sara Teasdale
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