Evening Poetry, September 1

Old Love and New

By Sara Teasdale

In my heart the old love  
Struggled with the new,  
It was ghostly waking  
All night through.  

Dear things, kind things  
That my old love said,  
Ranged themselves reproachfully  
Round my bed.  

But I could not heed them,  
For I seemed to see  
Dark eyes of my new love  
Fixed on me.  

Old love, old love,  
How can I be true?  
Shall I be faithless to myself  
Or to you?

You can find this in Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale.

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