My heart is a garden tired with autumn. - Sara Teasdale

Desert Pools

I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.

His feet will turn to desert places
Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,
Where stars stare down with sharpened faces
From heavens pitilessly blue.

And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In stagnant water keen as fire.

"...And a woman I used to know
Who loved one man from her youth,
Against the strength of the fates
Fighting in somber pride,
Never spoke of this thing,
But hearing his name by chance,
A light would pass over her face.
-"Those Who Love

Perhaps when all the world is bare And cruel winter holds the land, The Love that finds no place to hide Will run and catch my hand. <p> I shall not care to have him then, I shall be bitter and a-cold — It grows too late for frolicking When all the world is old.<p>Then little hiding Love, come forth, Come forth before the autumn goes, And let us seek thro' ruined paths The garden's last red rose.