Anna And Harland

by Sara Teasdale · 1790 · Loss & Grief
Within these wilds was Anna wont to rove
While Harland told her love in many a sigh,
But stern on Harland roll'd her brother's eye,
They fought, they fell--her brother and her love!
To Death's dark house did grief-worn Anna haste,
Yet here her pensive ghost delights to stay;
Oft pouring on the winds the broken lay--
And hark, I hear her--'twas the passing blast.
I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass,
Then Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide;
The tales of other days before me glide:
With eager thought I seize them as they pass;
For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam,
Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream.

About Sara Teasdale

American lyric poet, known for her poems on love, nature, and the feminine experience. Her work often displays a delicate and musical quality.

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