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Poem by Sara Teasdale


Spray


  I knew you thought of me all night,
   I knew, though you were far away;
    I felt your love blow over me
    As if a dark wind-riven sea
   Drenched me with quivering spray.

  There are so many ways to love
   And each way has its own delight—
    Then be content to come to me
    Only as spray the beating sea
   Drives inland through the night.



Sara Teasdale


Sara Teasdale's other poems:
  1. Gray Fog
  2. Spring Torrents
  3. Morning Song
  4. Nahant
  5. White Fog


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