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Read more poems by Sara Teasdale: Sara Teasdale Poems at Poetry X.

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A Cry

Sara Teasdale

Oh, there are eyes that he can see,
 And hands to make his hands rejoice,
But to my lover I must be
 Only a voice.

Oh, there are breasts to bear his head,
 And lips whereon his lips can lie,
But I must be till I am dead
 Only a cry.


Submitted by Venus

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 21 Jan 2018 3:52 AM | Viewed: 8069 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5038/ | Viewed on 21 January 2018.
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