Poem by Sara Teasdale

My Heart Is Heavy

  My heart is heavy with many a song
   Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree,
  But I can never give you one—
   My songs do not belong to me.

  Yet in the evening, in the dusk
   When moths go to and fro,
  In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen,
   Take it, no one will know.

1. In a Cuban Garden
2. Bells
3. Understanding
4. Alone
5. Morning Song

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