by Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale

PEOPLE that I meet and pass
In the city's broken roar,
Faces that I lose so soon
And have never found before,
Do you know how much you tell
In the meeting of our eyes,
How ashamed I am, and sad
To have pierced your poor disguise?
Secrets rushing without sound
Crying from your hiding places-
Let me go, I cannot bear
The sorrow of the passing faces.
-People in the restless street,
Can it be, oh can it be
In the meeting of our eyes
That you know as much of me?

Last updated January 14, 2019