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After Love
(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

After Love

Poem By Sara Teasdale

There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

You were the wind and I the sea -
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.

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Other poems of TEASDALE (315)

Comments (19)

It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace. /// after the love everything sometimes suppose to drink the bitterness of earth and sometimes suppose to living in the highest kingdom of paradise; the feelings of love such wonderful power that it can either kill or immortalize ///
such a beautiful loving poem........great
Well expressed thoughts in persuasive poetic expressions with artistic brilliance...........................................
The aftermath of passion and its embers, best break up poem ever.
You were the wind and I the sea - There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore. a very fine poem. tony


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