The Kiss

A poem by Sara Teasdale

I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the south.

For though I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'The Kiss' by Sara Teasdale

comments powered by Disqus