The Unchanging

by Sara Teasdale

Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing
  From the immense blue circle of the sea,
And the soft thunder where long waves whiten—
  These were the same for Sappho as for me.

Two thousand years—much has gone by forever,
  Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men—
But here on the beaches that time passes over
  The heart aches now as then.

Monadnock Valley Press > Teasdale