Explore "After Love" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THERE is no magic when we meet, / We speak as other people do, / You work no miracle for me / Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea -- / There is no splendor any more, / I have grown listless as the pool / Beside the shore.
But tho' the pool is safe from storm / And from the tide has found surcease, / It grows more bitter than the sea, / For all its peace.