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We weep before the Blessed Mother's shrine,
To think upon her sorrows, but her joys
What nun could ever know a tithing of?
The precious hours she watched above His sleep
Were worth the fearful anguish of the end.
Yea, lack of love is bitterest of all.

— Sara Teasdale Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911)

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More quotes by Sara Teasdale

Oh, beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?

Rivers to the Sea (1915)

For tho' I know he loves me,
To-night my heart is sad;
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.

Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911)

No one worth possessing
Can be quite possessed.

I hope that when he smiles at me
He does not guess my joy and pain,
For if he did, he is too kind
To ever look my way again.

Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911)

I may not speak till Eros' torch is dim,
The god is bitter and will have it so.

Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911)

All Sara Teasdale quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Sara Teasdale (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.