Dark of the Moon

A GENUINE DATE-STAMPED 1926 EDITION THAT IS NOW 98 YEARS OLD
PLEASE NOTE, THIS IS NOT THE 1927, 1929, 1933, OR THE 1936 PRINTING (THEY HAVE THE SAME COVER)
THIS IS A COLLECTION OF HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL POETRY BY PULITZER PRIZE-WINNING POETESS SARA TEASDALE

Teasdale's work has always been characterized by its simplicity and clarity, her use of classical forms, and her passionate and romantic subject matter. In 1918, she won the Columbia University Poetry Society Prize (which became the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry) and the Poetry Society of America Prize for Love Songs. She later tragically took her own life. Her collection of poems, Dark of the Moon, is considered one of her major works.

I typically do a rather extensive write-up for my books; however, for this one, I have decided to let you read Ms. Teasdale's writings below. As you will see, they are some of the most incredible, deep, and haunting collections ever put to paper. I may add that this is the finest condition I have ever owned nor seen offered—a masterpiece of poetry. It is a shame she took her own life. She was and still is one of the greatest poets ever.

The overall condition of this book is good, considering it is almost 100 years old. It does have some of the normal aging attributes associated with a book from the 1920s. This includes some light shelf wear to the covers, however, they are in exceptional condition for this age. One of the pages has a scrape, which can be seen in photo #5 of this listing. There is also a hand written poem located on one of the pages and some remnants of pencil erasing here and there. For a book from 1926, I would say it's been well-preserved.

AUGUST NIGHT
"On a midsummer night, on a night that was eerie with stars,
In a wood too deep for a single star to look through,
You led down a path whose turnings you knew in the darkness,
But the scent of the dew-dripping cedars was all that I knew.
I drank of the darkness; I was fed with the honey of fragrance,
I was glad of my life. The drawing of breath was sweet;
I heard your voice, you said, "Look down, see
the glow-worm!"
It was there before me, a small star white at my feet.
We watched while it brightened as though it were breathed on and burning,
This tiny creature moving over the earth's floor-
"'L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle,'"
You said, and no more."

WHEN I AM NOT WITH YOU
"When I am not with you, I am alone,
For there is no one else, And there is nothing
That comforts me, but you.
When you are gone, Suddenly I am sick; Blackness is around me; there is nothing left.
I have tried many things, Music and cities,
Stars in their constellations
And the sea, But there is nothing That comforts me but you;
And my poor pride bows down Like grass in a rainstorm, Drenched with my longing.
The night is unbearable, Oh, let me go to you, For there is no one; there is nothing
To comfort me but you."

TWO MINDS
"Your mind and mine are such great lovers
Have freed themselves from cautious human clay,
And on wild clouds of thought, naked together, They ride above us in extreme delight;
We see them, we look up with lone envy, And watch them in their zone of weather. That changes not for winter or the night."

THE GAZER
"I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent, Watching the future come and the present goes, And the little shifting pictures of people rushing In restless self-importance to and fro."

I SHALL LIVE TO BE OLD
I shall live to be old, who feared I should die young, I shall live to be old, I shall cling to life as the leaves to the creaking
oak In the rustle of falling snow and the cold.

September Night
"We walked in the dew, in the drowsy starlight
To the sleepless, sleepy sound
Of insects singing in the low sea meadows For miles and miles around;
With a wheel and a whirr, the resistless rhythm
Trembled incessantly; Antares was red in the sky before us, And behind us, the blackness of the sea."

A DECEMBER DAY
"Dawn turned on her purple pillow, and late, late came the Winter day.
Snow was curved to the boughs of the willow;
The sunless world was white and grey.
At noon, we heard a blue jay scolding; at five
the last thin light was lost From snow-banked
windows faintly holding The feathery filigree of frost."

THERE WILL BE STARS
There will be stars over the place forever;
Though the house we loved and the street we loved are lost,
Every time the earth circles her orbit
On the night the autumn equinox is crossed, Two stars we knew, poised on the peak of mid-
night Will reach their zenith; stillness will be deep;
There will be stars all over the place forever;
there will be stars forever while we sleep."

FONTAINEBLEAU
"Interminable palaces front on the green parterres,
And ghosts of ladies lovely and immoral
Glide down the gilded stairs,
The high cold corridors are clicking with the heel taps
That long ago were theirs.
But in the sunshine, in the vague autumn sunshine,
The geometric gardens are desolately gay;
The crimson and scarlet and rose-red dahlias Are painted like the ladies who used to pass this way."

CLEAR EVENING
"The crescent moon is large enough to linger. A little while after the twilight goes,
This moist midsummer night, the garden perfumes
Are earth and apple, dewy pine and rose.
Over my head, four new-cut stars are glinting, And the inevitable night draws on;
I am alone; the old terror takes me,
Evenings will come like this when I am gone;
Evenings on evenings, years on years forever— Be taut, my spirit, close upon and keep The scent,
the brooding chill, the gliding fire-fly, A poem learned before I fall asleep."

Teasdale's suicide and "I Shall Not Care"
A common urban legend surrounds Teasdale's death. The poem "I Shall Not Care" was speculated to be her death letter because of its depressing undertone. The legend claims that her poem "I Shall Not Care" (which features themes of abandonment, bitterness, and contemplation of death) was penned as a death note to a former lover.

"I Shall Not Care
When I am dead and over me, bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care. I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful.
When rain bends down the bough,
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Then you are now."

Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933) was an American lyric poet. She was born Sarah Trevor Teasdale in St. Louis, Missouri, and used the name Sara Teasdale Filsinger after her marriage in 1914. In 1918, she won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1917 poetry collection Love Songs.

Sara Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. She had poor health for much of her childhood, so she was home-schooled until age 9. It was at age 10 that she was well enough to begin school. She started at Mary Institute in 1898 but switched to Hosmer Hall in 1899, graduating in 1903. The Teasdale family lived at 3668 Lindell Blvd. and then at 38 Kingsbury Place in St. Louis, Missouri. Both homes were designed by Sara's mother. The house on Kingsbury Place had a private suite for Sara on the second floor. Guests entered through a separate entrance and were admitted by appointment. This suite is where Sara worked, slept, and often dined alone.

From 1904 to 1907, Teasdale was a member of The Potters, led by Lillie Rose Ernst, a group of female artists in their late teens and early twenties who published, from 1904 to 1907, The Potter's Wheel, a monthly artistic and literary magazine in St. Louis.

Teasdale's first poem was published in William Marion Reedy's Reedy's Mirror, a local newspaper, in 1907. Her first collection of poems, Sonnets to Duse and Other Poems, was published that same year.

Teasdale's second collection, Helen of Troy and Other Poems was published in 1911. It was well received by critics, who praised its lyrical mastery and romantic subject matter.

From 1911 to 1914, Teasdale was courted by several men, including the poet Vachel Lindsay, who was truly in love with her but did not feel that he could provide enough money or stability to keep her satisfied. She chose to marry Ernst Filsinger, a longtime admirer of her poetry, on December 19, 1914.

Teasdale's third poetry collection, Rivers to the Sea, was published in 1915. It was and is a bestseller, being reprinted several times. In 1916, she and Filsinger moved to New York City, where they lived in an Upper West Side apartment on Central Park West.

In 1918, she won a Pulitzer Prize for her 1917 poetry collection Love Songs. It was "made possible by a special grant from The Poetry Society"; however, the sponsoring organization now lists it as the earliest Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (inaugurated 1922).

Filsinger's constant business travel caused Teasdale much loneliness. In 1929, she moved interstate for three months, thereby satisfying the criterion to gain a divorce. She did not wish to inform Filsinger, only doing so at her lawyers' insistence as the divorce was going through. Filsinger was shocked. After the divorce, she moved only two blocks from her old home on Central Park West. She rekindled her friendship with Vachel Lindsay, who was now married with children.

In 1933, she died by taking her own life and overdosing. Lindsay had died of her own actions two years earlier. She is interred in Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis.


CONTENTS

I
THERE WILL BE STARS
ON THE SUSSEX DOWNS
AUGUST NIGHT
TWO MINDS
WORDS FOR AN OLD AIR
MOUNTAIN WATER
AT TINTAGIL
"THERE WILL BE STARS"

II
PICTURES OF AUTUMN
AUTUMN
SEPTEMBER DAY
FONTAINEBLEAU
LATE OCTOBER

III
SAND DRIFT
"BEAUTIFUL, PROUD SEA" LAND'S END
SAND DRIFT
BLUE STARGRASS
SEPTEMBER NIGHT
LOW TIDE

IV
PORTRAITS
EFFIGY OF A NUN

THOSE WHO LOVE
EPITAPH
APPRAISAL
THE WISE WOMAN
"SHE WHO COULD BIND YOU"
"SO THIS WAS ALL"

V
MIDSUMMER NIGHTS
TWILIGHT
FULL MOON
THE FOUNTAIN
CLEAR EVENING
NOT BY THE SEA
MIDSUMMER NIGHT

VI
THE GAZER
THE SOLITARY DAY'S ENDING
A REPLY LEISURE
"I SHALL LIVE TO BE OLD"
WISDOM
THE OLD ENEMY

VII
BERKSHIRE NOTES
WINTER SUN
A DECEMBER DAY

FEBRUARY TWILIGHT
"I HAVE SEEN THE SPRING"
WIND ELEGY
IN THE WOOD AUTUMN DUSK

VIII
ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN
ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN
"I COULD SNATCH A DAY"
AN END
FOREKNOWN
WINTER
WINTER NIGHT SONG
NEVER AGAIN
THE TUNE

IX
THE FLIGHT
THE BELOVED
"WHEN I AM NOT WITH YOU"
DEDICATION
ON A MARCH DAY
LET IT BE YOU THE FLIGHT