Poem by Sara Teasdale

The Nights Remember

  The days remember and the nights remember
   The kingly hours that once you made so great,
  Deep in my heart they lie, hidden in their splendor,
   Buried like sovereigns in their robes of state.

  Let them not wake again, better to lie there,
   Wrapped in memories, jewelled and arrayed—
  Many a ghostly king has waked from death-sleep
   And found his crown stolen and his throne decayed.

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

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