Skip to content
1884–1933

At Sea

Sara Teasdale

In the pull of the wind I stand, lonely, On the deck of a ship, rising, falling, Wild night around me, wild water under me, Whipped by the storm, screaming and calling.

Earth is hostile and the sea hostile, Why do I look for a place to rest? I must fight always and die fighting With fear an unhealing wound in my breast.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
At Sea · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove