A Cry


Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be
Only a voice.

Oh, there are breasts to bear his head,
And lips whereon his lips can lie,
But I must be till I am dead
Only a cry.


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Return to the Sara Teasdale Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Advice To A Girl

It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.