Songs after poems by Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one 
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree 
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she awoke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Fairy snow, fairy snow, 
Blowing, blowing everywhere, 
Would that I 
Too, could fly 
Lightly, lightly through the air.

Like a wee, crystal star 
I should drift, I should blow 
Near, more near, 
To my dear 
Where he comes through the snow.

I should fly to my love 
Like a flake in the storm, 
I should die, 
I should die, 
On his lips that are warm. 

The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree;
Peace comes to them on quiet feet,
  But not to me.

My peace is hidden in his breast
Where I shall never be,
Love comes to-night to all the rest,
  But not to me.

I wish for such a lot of things
That never will come true —
And yet I want them all so much
I think they might, don't you?
I want a little kitty-cat
That's soft and tame and sweet,
And every day I watch and hope
I'll find one in the street.
But nursie says, "Come, walk along,
"Don't stand and stare like that" —
I'm only looking hard and hard
To try to find my cat.
And then I want a blue balloon
That tries to fly away,
I thought if I wished hard enough
That it would come some day.
One time when I was in the park
I knew that it would be
Beside the big old clock at home
A-waiting there for me —
And soon as we got home again,
I hurried thro' the hall,
And looked beside the big old clock —
It wasn't there at all.
I think I'll never wish again —
But then, what shall I do?
The wishes are a lot of fun
Altho' they don't come true.

Your eyes drink of me,
Love makes them shine,
Your eyes that lean
So close to mine.
We have long been lovers,
We know the range
Of each other's moods
And how they change;
But when we look
At each other so
Then we feel
How little we know;
The spirit eludes us,
Timid and free  -- 
Can I ever know you
Or you know me?

Moon, worn thin to the width of a quill,
In the dawn clouds flying,
How good to go, light into light , and still
Giving light, dying.

There will be rest, and sure stars shining
Over the roof-tops crowned with snow,
A reign of rest, serene forgetting,
The music of stillness holy and low.

I will make this world of my devising
Out of a dream in my lonely mind.
I shall find the crystal of peace, – above me
Stars I shall find.

God let me listen to your voice,
And look upon you for a space —
And then he took your voice away,
And dropped a veil before your face.

God let me look within your eyes,
And touch for once your clinging hand,
And then he left me all alone,
And took you to the Silent Land.

I cannot weep, I cannot pray,
My heart has very silent grown,
I only watch how God gives love,
And then leaves lovers all alone.

I stood beside a hill
Smooth with new-laid snow,
A single star looked out
From the cold evening glow.
There was no other creature 
That saw what I could see
I stood and watched the evening star
As long as it watched me.

In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
Always knew.

Now the fields are brown and barren,
Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
Not one knows.

I saw a star slide down the sky,
Blinding the north as it went by,
Too burning and too quick to hold,
Too lovely to be bought or sold,
Good only to make wishes on
And then forever to be gone.

I am wild, I will sing to the trees,
      I will sing to the stars in the sky,
I love, I am loved, he is mine,
      Now at last I can die!

I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
      I have heart-fire and singing to give,
I can tread on the grass or the stars,
      Now at last I can live!

Alone in the night
     On a dark hill
With pines around me
     Spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars
     Over my head,
White and topaz
     And misty red;

Myriads with beating
     Hearts of fire
That aeons
     Cannot vex or tire;

Up the dome of heaven
     Like a great hill,
I watch them marching
     Stately and still,

And I know that I
     Am honored to be
Witness
     Of so much majesty.

I feel the spring far off, far off,
    The faint, far scent of bud and leaf—
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
    To a world in grief,
    Deep grief?
 
The sun turns north, the days grow long,
    Later the evening star grows bright—
How can the daylight linger on
    For men to fight,
    Still fight?
 
The grass is waking in the ground,
    Soon it will rise and blow in waves—
How can it have the heart to sway
    Over the graves,
    New graves?
 
Under the boughs where lovers walked
    The apple-blooms will shed their breath—
But what of all the lovers now
    Parted by Death,
    Grey Death?