This is the spot where I will lie
When life has had enough of me,
These are the grasses that will blow
Above me like a living sea.
These gay old lilies will not shrink
To draw their life from death of mine,
And I will give my body's fire
To make blue flowers on this vine.
“O Soul,” I said, “have you no tears?
Was not the body dear to you?”
I heard my soul say carelessly,
“The myrtle flowers will grow more blue.”
In A Burying Ground
Sara Teasdale
(1)
Poem topics: death, fire, sea, dear, life, soul, blue, body, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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