They came to tell your faults to me,
They named them over one by one;
I laughed aloud when they were done,
I knew them all so well before, --
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had made me love you more.
Poet: Sara Teasdale
Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Fault, has received 25 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.
Sara Teasdale books