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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Sara Teasdale

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

My Heart is Heavy

Sara Teasdale

From “Memories”

MY heart is heavy with many a song,

Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree;

And I can never give you one—

My songs do not belong to me.

Yet in the evening, in the dusk

When moths go to and fro,

In the gray hour if the fruit has fallen,

Take it—no one will know.