He rests a pair of slender hands, Sara Teasdale Sara Teasdale was born August 8, 1884, at St. Louis, Missouri, and educated there. After leaving school, she traveled in Europe and the Near East. In 1914, she married Ernst B. Filsinger, who has written several books on foreign trade, and moved to New York City in 1916. Her first book was a slight volume, Sonnets to Duse (1907), giving little promise of the rich lyricism which was to follow. Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911) contains the first hints of that delicate craftsmanship and authentic loveliness which this poet has brought to such a high pitch. The six monologues which open the volume are splendid delineations written in a blank verse that is as musical as many of her lyrics. At times it suffers from too conscious a cleverness; the dexterity with which Miss Teasdale turns a phrase or twists her last line is frequently too obtrusive to be wholly enjoyable. Rivers to the Sea (1915) emphasizes this epigrammatic skill, but a greater restraint is here, a warmer spontaneity. The new collection contains at least a dozen unforgettable snatches, lyrics in which the words seem to fall into place without art or effort. Seldom employing metaphor or striking imagery, almost bare of ornament, these poems have the sheer magic of triumphant song. Theirs is an artlessness that is more than an art. Love Songs (1917) is a collection of Miss Teasdale's previous melodies for the viola d'amore together with several new tunes. The new poems emphasize the way in which this poet achieves a direct enchantment without verbal subtleties. They also em phasize their superiority to the earlier love lyrics that were written in a mood of literary romance, of artificial moonlit roses, languishing lutes, balconies, passionate guitars—a mood that was not so much erotic as Pierrotic. Flame and Shadow (1920) is by far the best of her books. Here the beauty is fuller and deeper; an almost mystic radiance plays from these starry verses. Technically, also, this volume marks Miss Teasdale's greatest advance. The words are chosen with a keener sense of their actual as well as their musical values; the rhythms are much more subtle and varied; the line moves with a greater naturalness. Beneath the symbolism of poems like "Water Lilies" and "The Long Hill," one is conscious of a finer artistry, a more flexible speech that is all the lovelier for its slight (and logical) irregularities. Besides her own books, Miss Teasdale has compiled an anthology, The Answering Voice (1917), comprising one hundred love lyrics by women. NIGHT SONG AT AMALFI 1 I asked the heaven of stars What I should give my love— It answered me with silence, I asked the darkened sea Down where the fishermen go It answered me with silence, Silence below. Reprinted by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company, from Love Songs by Sara Teasdale. Oh, I could give him weeping, SPRING NIGHT 1 The park is filled with night and fog, Gold and gleaming the empty streets, Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I O beauty, are you not enough? With youth, a singing voice, and eyes I, for whom the pensive night Binds her cloudy hair with light, 1 Reprinted by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company, from Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale. I, for whom all beauty burns I SHALL NOT CARE 1 When I am dead and over me bright April Though you should lean above me broken-hearted, I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted THE LONG HILL2 I must have passed the crest a while ago Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know, my gown. 1 Reprinted by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company, from Love Songs by Sara Teasdale. 2 Reprinted by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company, from Flame and Shadow by Sara Teasdale, All the morning I thought how proud I should be To stand there straight as a queen, Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen. It was nearly level along the beaten track And the brambles caught in my gown— WATER LILIES 1 If you have forgotten water-lilies floating On a dark lake among mountains in the afternoon shade, If you have forgotten their wet, sleepy fragrance, But if you remember, then turn away forever To the plains and the prairies where pools are far apart, There you will not come at dusk on closing water lilies, And the shadow of mountains will not fall on your heart. 1 Reprinted by permission of the publishers, The Macmillan Company, from Flame and Shadow by Sara Teasdale |