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Wild Asters: Poem by Sara Teasdale

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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.

Analysis of this poem

More verses by Sara Teasdale

  • I Have Loved Hours At Sea
  • I Love You
  • Come
  • Jewels
  • Sleepless

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Poems about...
  • love
  • death
  • life
  • nature
  • family
  • spring
  • winter
  • summer
  • autumn
  • depression
  • beautiful
  • dream
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