The Tree Of Song

by Sara Teasdale

Sara Teasdale

I sang my songs for the rest,
For you I am still;
The tree of my song is bare
On its shining hill.
For you came like a lordly wind,
And the leaves were whirled
Far as forgotten things
Past the rim of the world.
The tree of my song stands bare
Against the blue -
I gave my songs to the rest,
Myself to you.





Last updated January 14, 2019