Sara Teasdale’s “Immortal” is a short meditation on what death means for the body and the soul. The speaker says her body will soon pass beyond human sight and sound. Though it currently wakes and suffers, death will bring it unbroken sleep — a kind of peace. But the turn comes with “But oh”: her “frail immortal soul” will not sleep forevermore. Instead, she pictures that soul as a leaf blown helplessly onward by a blast, or a wave forever moving but never reaching shore. There is no final rest, only endless restlessness. The feeling is not triumphant immortality but quiet dread: the speaker seems to long for the body’s sleep while fearing that the soul cannot stop. The mood is somber, fragile, and unsettled, full of weariness at the thought of going on forever without arrival.
Immortal — Summary
So soon my body will have gone Beyond the sound and sight of men, And tho' it wakes and suffers now, Its sleep will be unbroken then; But oh, my frail immortal soul That will not sleep forevermore, A leaf borne onward by the blast, A wave that never finds the shore.