Thursday, May 14, 2009

Our fragile immortality



Refuge
by Sara Teasdale

From my spirit's gray defeat,
From my pulse's flagging beat,
From my hopes that turned to sand
Sifting through my close-clenched hand,
From my own fault's slavery,
If I can sing, I still am free.


For with my singing I can make
A refuge for my spirit's sake,
A house of shining words, to be
My fragile immortality.

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