[430] Wild Asters

In the spring I asked the daisies
 If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
 Always knew.

Now the fields are brown and barren,
 Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
 Not one knows.

	-- Sara Teasdale

A delightful poem - it's amazing how well the tone comes across. The
sentiment and phrasing are mildly reminiscent of Dorothy Parker (though not
as hard-edged). There isn't a whole lot to be said about it, but note how
well Teasdale blends a strictly controlled metre with varying line lengths -
her poetry is always a pleasure to read, whether for the imagery, the sound
or the sheer elegance of the writing.

Links:

For a collection of Teasdale's poems, see
http://www.emule.com/poetry/works.cgi?author=33

For a biography, see poem #113

-martin