Friday, May 1, 2015

Sara Teasdale: "May Day"


A delicate fabric of bird song
   Floats in the air,
The smell of wet wild earth
   Is everywhere.

Red small leaves of the maple
   Are clenched like a hand,
Like girls at their first communion
   The pear trees stand.

Oh I must pass nothing by
   Without loving it much,
The raindrop try with my lips,
   The grass with my touch;

For how can I be sure
   I shall see again
The world on the first of May
   Shining after the rain?

"May Day" by Sara Teasdale. Text as published in The Collected Poems (Digireads, 2012).

Art credit: "Ladybug after the Rain," photograph by jens kolk. 

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