Explore "The Years" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
TO-NIGHT I close my eyes and see / A strange procession passing me -- / The years before I saw your face / Go by me with a wistful grace; / They pass, the sensitive shy years, / As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew / That each one brought me nearer you; / Their path was narrow and apart / And yet it led me to your heart -- / Oh sensitive shy years, oh lonely years, / That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.