From my spirit's gray defeat,
From my pulse's flagging beat,
From my hopes that turned to sand
Sifting through my close-clenched hand,
From my own fault's slavery,
If I can sing, I still am free.
For with my singing I can make
A refuge for my spirit's sake,
A house of shining words, to be
My fragile immortality.
Refuge
Sara Teasdale
(4)
Poem topics: house, fault, sake, shining, spirit, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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