Wild Asters by Sara Teasdale Leave a reply Wild Asters by Sara Teasdale In the spring I asked the daisies If his words were true, And the clever little daisies Always knew. Now the fields are brown and barren, Bitter autumn blows, And of all the stupid asters Not one knows. Related Poems: The Blind by Sara Teasdale Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale WORDS FOR AN OLD AIR by Sara Teasdale Helen of Troy by Sara Teasdale THE HARLEM DANCER by Claude McKay PRIME by Amy Lowell After Apple-picking by Robert Frost California City Landscape by Carl Sandburg The Letter by Amy Lowell Chinese Poet Among Barbarians by Louis Untermeyer