Poem by Sara Teasdale

The Tree of Song

I sang my songs for the rest,
 For you I am still;
The tree of my song is bare
 On its shining hill.

For you came like a lordly wind,
 And the leaves were whirled
Far as forgotten things
 Past the rim of the world.

The tree of my song stands bare
 Against the blue--
I gave my songs to the rest,
 Myself to you.

1. The Flight
2. Songs out of Sorrow
3. I Would Live in Your Love
4. April Song
5. Ebb Tide

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