I lived with the swift singing strength of fire,
Seeking for beauty as a flame for fuel,
Beauty in all things and in every hour.
The gods have given life, I gave them song;
The debt is paid and now I turn to go.
The breath of dawn blows the stars out like lamps,
There is a rim of silver on the sea.
As one grown tired, who hopes to sleep, I go.
Scribner’s Sara Teasdale