{"id":507,"date":"2010-05-30T04:08:46","date_gmt":"2010-05-30T04:08:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=507"},"modified":"2010-05-30T04:08:46","modified_gmt":"2010-05-30T04:08:46","slug":"those-who-love-by-sara-teasdale","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/those-who-love-by-sara-teasdale\/","title":{"rendered":"Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale"},"content":{"rendered":"<figure id=\"attachment_457\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-457\" style=\"width: 179px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/Teasdale.gif\"><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-full wp-image-457 lazyload\" title=\"Teasdale\" data-src=\"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/Teasdale.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"179\" height=\"247\" src=\"data:image\/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB3aWR0aD0iMSIgaGVpZ2h0PSIxIiB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciPjwvc3ZnPg==\" style=\"--smush-placeholder-width: 179px; --smush-placeholder-aspect-ratio: 179\/247;\" \/><\/a><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-457\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\n<p>Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale<\/p>\n<p>Those who love the most<br \/>\nDo not talk of their love;<br \/>\nFrancesca, Guenevere,<br \/>\nDierdre, Iseult, Heloise<br \/>\nIn the fragrant gardens of heaven<br \/>\nAre silent, or speak, if at all,<br \/>\nOf fragile, inconsequent things.<\/p>\n<p>And a woman I used to know<br \/>\nWho loved one man from her youth,<br \/>\nAgainst the strength of the fates<br \/>\nFighting in lonely pride,<br \/>\nNever spoke of this thing,<br \/>\nBut hearing his name by chance,<br \/>\nA light would pass over her face.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale Those who love the most Do not talk of their love; Francesca, Guenevere, Dierdre, Iseult, Heloise In the fragrant gardens of heaven Are silent, or speak, if at all, Of fragile, inconsequent things. And a woman I used to know Who loved one man from her youth, Against the&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,84,113],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-507","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1800s","category-1900s","category-teasdale"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/507","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=507"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/507\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=507"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=507"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=507"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}