The Song Maker
by Sara Teasdale
I MADE a hundred little songs
That told the joy and pain of love,
And sang them blithely, tho' I knew
No whit thereof.
I was a weaver deaf and blind;
A miracle was wrought for me,
But I have lost my skill to weave
Since I can see.
For while I sang -- ah swift and strange!
Love passed and touched me on the brow,
And I who made so many songs
Am silent now
*it seems I have grown tired of my own words
and so i take a little break from writing.
i hope to continue posting new paintings on
my art blog and also my art site. if i have
anything fresh & new to contribute, i will
certainly bring it here to post.
i will be visiting all of your pages, as time allows
because, i never tire of your words, your art
or your creativity!
image sourc: train+tracks++12216829046wbLIpG
* i so wish i knew the photographers name to credit this stunning photo properly.