by Sara Teasdale
I should be glad of loneliness
 And hours that go on broken wings,
A thirsty body, a tired heart
 And the unchanging ache of things,
If I could make a single song
 As lovely and as full of light,
As hushed and brief as a falling star
 On a winter night.


Play Hangman

Play Poptropica

Play Same Game

Try Our Math Flashcards