Sara Teasdale — Moonlight

It will not hurt me when I am old,        &nbsp A running tide where moonlight burned        &nbsp        &nbsp Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold,        &nbsp        &nbsp It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give,        &nbsp When that is learned, then all is learned;        &nbsp       &nbsp The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive,        &nbsp       &nbsp It will not hurt me when I am old.