Poem by Sara Teasdale

On the Wind

Joy goes by like a bird,
Love goes by like a leaf
But slow as an aged man's
Are the steps of grief.

Catch joy if your wings can fly,
And love if your feet can run;
But grief will still be there
When the game is done. 

1. In a Garden
2. In Spring, Santa Barbara
3. Nahant
4. Winter Stars
5. A Boy

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