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1884–1933

A WINTER BLUEJAY

Sara Teasdale

CRISPLY the bright snow whispered, Crunching beneath our feet; Behind us as we walked along the parkway, Our shadows danced,

Fantastic shapes in vivid blue. Across the lake the skaters Flew to and fro, With sharp turns weaving

A frail invisible net. In ecstasy the earth Drank the silver sunlight; In ecstasy the skaters

Drank the wine of speed; In ecstasy we laughed Drinking the wine of love. Had not the music of our joy

Sounded its highest note? But no, For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said, “Oh look!”

There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple, Fearless and gay as our love, A bluejay cocked his crest! Oh who can tell the range of joy

Or set the bounds of beauty?

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A WINTER BLUEJAY · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove