National Poetry Month - Spring Rain by Sara Teasdale

Spring Rain, New York - by John French Sloan, 1912

Yes, it is that time again! Poetry for National Poetry Month. I love Sara Teasdale, and here is one of her poems that fits the season (and the stormy weather I have had over spring break!)

Spring Rain 

by Sara Teasdale

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.

I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.

The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light's stain.

With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say. . . .

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.

Sara Teasdale (1884 - 1933) was an American poet. 

Check out some other fabulous poems featured in my other blog posts!

National Poetry Month - William Blake

National Poetry Month - Gerald Manley Hopkins

National Poetry Month - Emily Dickinson

National Poetry Month - Billy Collins

National Poetry Month - Langston Hughes

National Poetry Month - Walt Whitman

National Poetry Month - Sara Teasdale (There Will Come Soft Rains)

National Poetry Month -  Thomas Hardy

National Poetry Month - Sara Teasdale

Arlington Cemetery - Photo courtesy of William Newbold

"There Will Come Soft Rains"

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

--Sara Teasdale

This Sara Teasdale poem was used as the title for a Ray Bradbury short story.  You may want to check it out!

Gettysburg - photo courtesy of William Newbold