To E

Sara Teasdale, 1884 – 1933

The door was opened and I saw you there

And for the first time heard you speak my name.

Then like the sun your sweetness overcame

My shy and shadowy mood; I was aware

That joy was hidden in your happy hair,

And that for you love held no hint of shame;

My eyes caught light from yours, within whose flame

Humor and passion have an equal share.

How many times since then have I not seen

Your great eyes widen when you talk of love,

And darken slowly with a fair desire;

How many time since then your soul has been

Clear to my gaze as curving skies above,

Wearing like them a raiment made of fire.

Though, if I’d written this it would be To I.