The Net


I made you many and many a song,
Yet never one told all you are,
It was as though a net of words
Were flung to catch a star;

It was as though I curved my hand
And dipped sea-water eagerly,
Only to find it lost the blue
Dark splendor of the sea.


facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest

Add The Net to your library.

Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; The New Moon

© 2022