When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire—
But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.

I almost gave my life long ago for a thing
That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes—
It is strange how often a heart must be broken
Before the years can make it wise.

Added: on April 9th, 2005 at 6:17 PM | Viewed: 2995 times | Comments (2)

Poet: Sara Teasdale
Poem: Dust
Poem of the Day: Apr 3 2005

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