The Prayer

A poem by Sara Teasdale

My answered prayer came up to me,
And in the silence thus spake he:
"O you who prayed for me to come,
Your greeting is but cold and dumb."

My heart made answer: "You are fair,
But I have prayed too long to care.
Why came you not when all was new,
And I had died for joy of you."

Reader Comments

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

comments powered by Disqus