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A Maiden
(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

A Maiden

Poem By Sara Teasdale

Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
And make his casement fine.

And if I were the little bird
That twitters on the tree,
All day I'd sing my love for him
Till he should harken me.

But since I am a maiden
I go with downcast eyes,
And he will never hear the songs
That he has turned to sighs.

And since I am a maiden
My love will never know
That I could kiss him with a mouth
More red than roses blow.

User Rating: 3,1 / 5 ( 56 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

That I could kiss him with a mouth More red than any rose 🌹. This ending sounds better to me.
yawn? This poem is tremendous!
yawn -midnight maiden


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