It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive, It will not hurt me when I am old.
This poem is in the public domain.
Born in 1884, Sara Trevor Teasdale's work was characterized by its simplicity and clarity and her use of classical forms.
Date Published: 1920-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/moonlight