I rushed myself to write every day. I took in a both good and bad attitude and mind-set. But I would like to be stable/broad and moreover in a sequential too. Started having bad memory too. I must take care. Over the last two weeks, I forgot and missed to post it. But I still love to post it today.
ABOUT THE POET:
Sara Teasdale, in full Sara Trevor Teasdale, (born August 8, 1884, St. Louis, Missouri, U.S.—died January 29, 1933, New York, New York), American poet whose short, personal lyrics were noted for their classical simplicity and quiet intensity.
Teasdale was educated privately and made frequent trips to Chicago, where she eventually became part of Harriet Monroe’s Poetry magazine circle. Her first published poem appeared in the St. Louis, Missouri, weekly Reedy’s Mirror in May 1907, and later that year she published her first volume of verse, Sonnets to Duse, and Other Poems. A second volume, Helen of Troy, and Other Poems, followed in 1911. She married in 1914 (having rejected another suitor, the poet Vachel Lindsay), and in 1915 her third collection of poems, Rivers to the Sea, was published. She moved with her husband to New York City in 1916. In 1918 she won the Columbia University Poetry Society prize (forerunner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry) and the annual prize of the Poetry Society of America for Love Songs (1917). During this time she also edited two anthologies, The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women (1917), and Rainbow Gold for Children (1922).
Teasdale’s poems are consistently classical in style. She wrote technically excellent, pure, openhearted lyrics usually in such conventional verse forms as quatrains or sonnets. Her growth as a poet is nonetheless evident in Flame and Shadow (1920), Dark of the Moon (1926), and Stars To-night (1930). The poems in these collections evince an increasing subtlety and economy of expression. Teasdale’s marriage ended in divorce in 1929, and she lived thereafter the life of a semi-invalid. In 1933, in frail health after a recent bout of pneumonia, she took her own life with an overdose of barbiturates. Her last and perhaps finest collection of verse, Strange Victory, was published later that year. Her Collected Poems appeared in 1937.
There will come soft rain and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
This poetry has taken from Medium.com 31 of the Best and Most Famous Short Classic Poems Of All Time.