But Not to Me
The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.
My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be; Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.
Sara Teasdale
The April night is still and sweet With flowers on every tree; Peace comes to them on quiet feet, But not to me.
My peace is hidden in his breast Where I shall never be; Love comes to-night to all the rest, But not to me.
In the opening lines, the speaker describes a still, sweet April night, with blossoms on every tree and peace settling gently over the world. But she immediately sets herself apart: that peace may come to the trees and to everyone else, but not to her. The second stanza reveals why.
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