by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of … Read the rest Category: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Witch-Wife
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
She is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine. She has more hair than she needs; In the… Read the rest
Women have loved before
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Women have loved before as I love now; At least, in lively chronicles of the past— Of Irish waters by a Cornish prow Or Trojan waters by a Spartan mast Much to their cost invaded—here… Read the rest
Wraith
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
—Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Someone living here before—
"Nobody's in the house but me:
You may come in if you like … Read the rest Thursday
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday—
So much is true.
And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.
I loved … Read the rest To a Poet That Died Young
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Minstrel, what have you to do
With this man that, after you,
Sharing not your happy fate,
Sat as England's Laureate?
Vainly, in these iron days,
Strives the poet in your praise,
Minstrel, by whose … Read the rest To Kathleen
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as flowers and song and you; Still as of old his being give In… Read the rest
To S. M.
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
If he should lie a-dying I am not willing you should go Into the earth, where Helen went; She is awake by now, I know. Where Cleopatra's anklets rust You will not lie with my… Read the rest
To the Not Impossible Him
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
How shall I know, unless I go
To Cairo and Cathay,
Whether or not this blessed spot
Is blest in every way?
Now it may be, the flower for me
Is this beneath my nose;
… Read the rest Travel
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
All night there isn't a train … Read the rest