Skip to content
1884–1933

III

Sara Teasdale

O princess cease your dreams awhile And look adown your tower's gray side — The princess gazes far away, Nor hears nor heeds the words I cried.

Perchance my heart was overbold, God made her dreams too pure to break, She sees the angels in the air Fly to and fro for Mary's sake.

Farewell, I mount and go my way, — But oh her hair the sun sifts thro’ — The tilts and tourneys wait my spear, I am the Knight of the Plume of Blue.

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.
III · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove