In the spring I asked the daisies
  If his words were true,
 And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
  Always knew.

 Now the fields are brown and barren,
  Bitter autumn blows,
 And of all the stupid asters
  Not one knows.

A delightful poem - it’s amazing how well the tone comes across. The sentiment and phrasing are mildly reminiscent of Dorothy Parker (though not as hard-edged). There isn’t a whole lot to be said about it, but note how well Teasdale blends a strictly controlled metre with varying line lengths - her poetry is always a pleasure to read, whether for the imagery, the sound or the sheer elegance of the writing.

Links

For a collection of Teasdale’s poems, see
http://www.emule.com/poetry/works.cgi?author=33

For a biography, see poem #113

— Martin