Until I lose my soul and lie
Blind to the beauty of the earth,
Deaf though a shouting wind goes by,
Dumb in a storm of mirth;
Until my heart is quenched at length
And I have left the land of men,
Oh, let me love with all my strength
Careless if I am loved again.
— Sara Teasdale
I cut my teeth on Sara Teasdale. Her poems always do something to me.
Glad to see she is not forgotten in the modern age (nobody who truly lives
poetry and met Sara in her writings could forget her)