Pain

A poem by Sara Teasdale

Waves are the sea’s white daughters,
And raindrops the children of rain,
But why for my shimmering body
Have I a mother like Pain?

Night is the mother of stars,
And wind the mother of foam,
The world is brimming with beauty,
But I must stay at home.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Pain' by Sara Teasdale

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy