![\"Helen](\"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/ofertas-de-san-valentin-jpg.webp\")
<\/h2>\n<\/h2>\nby Sara Teasdale<\/p>\n
Wild flight on flight against the fading dawn
\nThe flames’ red wings soar upward duskily.
\nThis is the funeral pyre and Troy is dead
\nThat sparkled so the day I saw it first,
\nAnd darkened slowly after. I am she
\nWho loves all beauty\u2014yet I wither it.
\nWhy have the high gods made me wreak their wrath\u2014
\nForever since my maidenhood to sow
\nSorrow and blood about me? Lo, they keep
\nTheir bitter care above me even now.
\nIt was the gods who led me to this lair,
\nThat tho’ the burning winds should make me weak,
\nThey should not snatch the life from out my lips.
\nOlympus let the other women die;
\nThey shall be quiet when the day is done
\nAnd have no care to-morrow. Yet for me
\nThere is no rest. The gods are not so kind
\nTo her made half immortal like themselves.
\nIt is to you I owe the cruel gift,
\nLeda, my mother, and the Swan, my sire,
\nTo you the beauty and to you the bale;
\nFor never woman born of man and maid
\nHad wrought such havoc on the earth as I,
\nOr troubled heaven with a sea of flame
\nThat climbed to touch the silent whirling stars
\nAnd blotted out their brightness ere the dawn.
\nHave I not made the world to weep enough?
\nGive death to me. Yet life is more than death;
\nHow could I leave the sound of singing winds,
\nThe strong sweet scent that breathes from off the sea,
\nOr shut my eyes forever to the spring?
\nI will not give the grave my hands to hold,
\nMy shining hair to light oblivion.
\nHave those who wander through the ways of death,
\nThe still wan fields Elysian, any love
\nTo lift their breasts with longing, any lips
\nTo thirst against the quiver of a kiss?
\nLo, I shall live to conquer Greece again,
\nTo make the people love, who hate me now.
\nMy dreams are over, I have ceased to cry
\nAgainst the fate that made men love my mouth
\nAnd left their spirits all too deaf to hear
\nThe little songs that echoed through my soul.
\nI have no anger now. The dreams are done;
\nYet since the Greeks and Trojans would not see
\nAught but my body’s fairness, till the end,
\nIn all the islands set in all the seas,
\nAnd all the lands that lie beneath the sun,
\nTill light turn darkness, and till time shall sleep,
\nMen’s lives shall waste with longing after me,
\nFor I shall be the sum of their desire,
\nThe whole of beauty, never seen again.
\nAnd they shall stretch their arms and starting, wake
\nWith “Helen!” on their lips, and in their eyes
\nThe vision of me. Always I shall be
\nLimned on the darkness like a shaft of light
\nThat glimmers and is gone. They shall behold
\nEach one his dream that fashions me anew;\u2014
\nWith hair like lakes that glint beneath the stars
\nDark as sweet midnight, or with hair aglow
\nLike burnished gold that still retains the fire.
\nYea, I shall haunt until the dusk of time
\nThe heavy eyelids filled with fleeting dreams.<\/p>\n
I wait for one who comes with sword to slay\u2014
\nThe king I wronged who searches for me now;
\nAnd yet he shall not slay me. I shall stand
\nWith lifted head and look within his eyes,
\nBaring my breast to him and to the sun.
\nHe shall not have the power to stain with blood
\nThat whiteness\u2014for the thirsty sword shall fall
\nAnd he shall cry and catch me in his arms,
\nBearing me back to Sparta on his breast.
\nLo, I shall live to conquer Greece again!<\/p>\n
##<\/p>\n
Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 \u2013 January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet known for her passionate and highly personal poetry. Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Teasdale was the youngest child of a wealthy family. She was homeschooled until the age of 10 and later attended Mary Institute, a private school for girls.<\/p>\n
Teasdale began writing poetry at a young age and published her first poem in 1907 in Reedy\u2019s Mirror, a local newspaper. Her first collection of poems, \u201cSonnets to Duse and Other Poems,\u201d was published in 1907, and her second collection, \u201cHelen of Troy and Other Poems,\u201d followed in 1911.<\/p>\n
In 1914, Teasdale married Ernst Filsinger, a businessman, and moved to New York City. She continued to write and publish poetry, and her third collection, \u201cRivers to the Sea,\u201d was published in 1915. This collection included some of her most famous poems, such as \u201cI Shall Not Care\u201d and \u201cThe Lamp.\u201d<\/p>\n
Teasdale\u2019s poetry was characterized by its lyrical beauty, emotional intensity, and themes of love, heartbreak, and the natural world. She was influenced by the Romantic poets, particularly John Keats, and her work often explored the intricacies of human emotions and relationships.<\/p>\n
Throughout her career, Teasdale received numerous awards and accolades for her poetry, including the Columbia University Poetry Society prize, the Poetry Society of America prize, and the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1918 for her collection \u201cLove Songs.\u201d<\/p>\n
Despite her success, Teasdale struggled with depression and poor health throughout her life. She divorced Filsinger in 1929 and moved back to St. Louis. On January 29, 1933, at the age of 48, Teasdale took her own life by overdosing on sleeping pills.<\/p>\n
Sara Teasdale\u2019s legacy lives on through her poetry, which continues to be widely read and admired for its beauty, emotional depth, and universal themes. Her work has influenced countless poets and has secured her place as one of the most important American poets of the early 20th century.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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