Debtor

You don’t hear a lot about Sara Teasdale these days – or at least I don’t.  But I’ve found a couple of her poems that I really love, and here is another I happened upon the other day while I was wasting time instead of working:

So long as my spirit still

Is glad of breath

And lifts its plumes of pride

In the dark face of death;

While I am curious still

Of love and fame,

Keeping my heart too high

For the years to tame,

How can I quarrel with fate

Since I can see

I am a debtor to life,

Not life to me?