Come, when the pale moon like a petal
 Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
 Come with lips pursed up to cling.

Come, for life is a frail moth flying,
 Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two, so warm and eager,
 Will be as the gray stones in the grass.

Added: on March 24th, 2005 at 12:39 PM | Viewed: 3240 times | Comments (3)

Poet: Sara Teasdale
Poem: Come
Poem of the Day: Mar 1 2005

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