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. Gray Fog
2. Spring Torrents
3. Morning Song
4. Nahant
5. In a Cuban Garden

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