For One White, Singing Hour Of Peace, Count Many A Year Of Strife Well Lost

Barter
by Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things;
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children’s faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell;
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And, for the Spirit’s still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Give all you have for loveliness;
Buy it, and never count the cost!
For one white, singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost;
And for a breath of ecstasy,
Give all you have been, or could be.

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My father, who went to his grave singularly unimpressed by anything that I had ever written, was visibly moved by my ability to recite this poem during a meteor shower at the beach. More than a decade later, I'm less impressed by the value of the bargain than I was at the time. At least as it pertains to the "many a year of strife well lost." I'm still willing to trade, for one breath of ecstacy, all that I have been, or could be. Does anyone ever approach ecstacy with anything less in hand to trade?

At any rate, I think it's very good advice for the New Year.

And, I'm a passing writer, if, in Dorothy Parker's words, passing grade is minus D.

PS I learned of this poem through a series of short stories that the first-ex-Mr.-Hecate left with me called: The People: No Different Flesh. I spent 17 years in education on the strength of those stories.