Swans

Sara Teasdale 1884 – 1933

Night is over the park, and a few brave stars

Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,

The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars

That seem to heavy for tremulous water to hold.

We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,

And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;

How still you are—your gaze is on my face—

We watch the swans and never a word is said.

Mentioned in this episode:

Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only

Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.

#WriteAfterOPO