The Return

by Sara Teasdale

He has come, he is here,
My love has come home,
The minutes are lighter
Than flying foam,

The hours are like dancers
On gold-slippered feet,
The days are young runners
Naked and fleet.

For my love has returned,
He is home, he is here,
In the whole world no other
Is dear as my dear!

Add The Return to your library.

Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; There Will Come Soft Rains