Explore "The Song Maker" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I made a hundred little songs / That told the joy and pain of love, / And sang them blithely, tho' I knew / No whit thereof.
I was a weaver deaf and blind; / A miracle was wrought for me, / But I have lost my skill to weave / Since I can see.
For while I sang -- ah swift and strange! / Love passed and touched me on the brow, / And I who made so many songs / Am silent now.