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
the 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?







