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Poem by Sara Teasdale


New Love and Old


  In my heart the old love
   Struggled with the new;
  It was ghostly waking
   All night through.

  Dear things, kind things,
   That my old love said,
  Ranged themselves reproachfully
   Round my bed.

  But I could not heed them,
   For I seemed to see
  The eyes of my new love
   Fixed on me.

  Old love, old love,
   How can I be true?
  Shall I be faithless to myself
   Or to you?



Sara Teasdale


Sara Teasdale's other poems:
  1. The Carpenter's Son
  2. I Shall Not Care
  3. The Wine
  4. Tides
  5. Child, Child


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