Poetry Friday - Let it be forgotten

Today I thought I'd share a poem by Sara Teasdale, a twentieth century female poet that I like, who lived from 1884-1933. In 1929 she became divorced from her husband of 15 years, Ernst Filsinger, for reasons I haven't ascertained (and in 1929 there must have been a reason) and later committed suicide. I won't run Sara for a month, but a vast amount of her poetry is available on the web for any interested reader, along the themes of love and longing, beauty, nature and death. There is something about the poem below which really captures me, for reasons I can't quite explain. However, I do stumble on the metre and feel like there are too many syllables in the second last line (because "flower" and "fire" push one syllable in my reading) but that doesn't ruin it for me.

What it is about is for the reader for fill in ...

Let it be forgotten

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,

Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If any one asks, say it was forgotten

Long and long ago,

As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall

In a long-forgotten snow.

Sara Teasdale