Atoms as old as stars, Mutation on mutation, Millions and millions of cells Dividing yet still the same, From air and changing earth, From ancient Eastern rivers, From turquoise tropic seas, Unto myself I came. My spirit like my flesh Sprang from a thousand sources, From cave-man, hunter and shepherd, From Karnak, Cyprus, Rome; The living thoughts in me Spring from dead men and women, Forgotten time out of mind And many as bubbles of foam. Here for a moment's space Into the light out of darkness, I come and they come with me Finding words with my breath; From the wisdom of many life-times Seek for Beauty, she only Fights with man against Death!"
Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Wanderer