How many million Aprils came
 Before I ever knew
How white a cherry bough could be,
 A bed of squills, how blue!

And many a dancing April
 When life is done with me,
Will lift the blue flame of the flower
 And the white flame of the tree.

Oh burn me with your beauty, then,
 Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
 Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees,
 O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I, through endless sleep,
 May bear the scar of you.

Added: May 7 2003 | Viewed: 1330 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Sara Teasdale
Poem: Blue Squills
Volume: Flame and Shadow
Poem of the Day: Oct 19 2006
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Blue Squills, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Sara Teasdale with others on the American Poems poetry forum!