More fine poetry from Teasdale. Another poem of hers is here. (internal link)
In my youth, time seemed to begin anew when meeting someone new.
by Sara Teasdale (1884 – 1933)
Read by Ghizela Rowe
To-night I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me-
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive, shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart-
Oh, sensitive, shy years, oh, lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.