When we come home at night and close the door,
Standing together in the shadowy room,
Safe in our own love and the gentle gloom,
Glad of familiar wall and chair and floor,

Glad to leave far below the clanging city;
Looking far downward to the glaring street
Gaudy with light, yet tired with many feet,
In both of us wells up a wordless pity;

Men have tried hard to put away the dark;
A million lighted windows brilliantly
Inlay with squares of gold the winter night,
But to us standing here there comes the stark
Sense of the lives behind each yellow light,
And not one wholly joyous, proud, or free.

by Sara Teasdale

Comments (25)

McCrae's response to Nietzsche? “Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the market place, and cried incessantly: I seek God! I seek God! … Whither is God? he cried; I will tell you. We have killed him - you and I. All of us are his murderers...How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? ... Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?
great better than fatal because not many people go there and its close to loot lake thank you for your likes and bye
It is a heart felt poem on lust and shame having deep diction. Let me quote... And speaking, fell before that brutish race Like some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear, While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless face. Thanks
A biblical poem from the dawn of the 20th century, there is a lot of Victorian rhetoric in this that reminds me of the age it comes from.
a poetic message that is always going to be relevant to mankind? who will never listen whilst diamonds and gold glisten! .........well penned.
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