Explore "Morning" by Sara Teasdale on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I WENT out on an April morning / All alone, for my heart was high, / I was a child of the shining meadow, / I was a sister of the sky.
There in the windy flood of morning / Longing lifted its weight from me, / Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, / Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.