Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale
Perhaps if Death is kind, and there can be returning,
  We will come back to earth some fragrant night,
And take these lanes to find the sea, and bending
  Breathe the same honeysuckle, low and white.
We will come down at night to these resounding beaches
  And the long gentle thunder of the sea,
Here for a single hour in the wide starlight
  We shall be happy, for the dead are free.