by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!… Read the rest
Category: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Lament
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Listen, children:
Your father is dead.
From his old coats
I'll make you little jackets;
I'll make you little trousers
From his old pants.
There'll be in his pockets
Things he used to put there,
… Read the rest She Is Overheard Singing
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, Prue she has a patient man,
And Joan a gentle lover,
And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,—
But my true love's a rover!
Mig, her man's as good as cheese
And honest as a … Read the rest Low-Tide
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down
Will show again when the tide is … Read the rest Song of a Second April
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.
There … Read the rest Elegy
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Let them bury your big eyes
In the secret earth securely,
Your thin fingers, and your fair,
Soft, indefinite-colored hair,—
All of these in some way, surely,
From the secret earth shall rise;
Not for … Read the rest Elegy Before Death
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
There will be rose and rhododendron
When you are dead and under ground;
Still will be heard from white syringas
Heavy with bees, a sunny sound;
Still will the tamaracks be raining
After the rain … Read the rest Epitaph
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Heap not on this mound
Roses that she loved so well;
Why bewilder her with roses,
That she cannot see or smell?
She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.
… Read the rest Euclid alone has seen Beauty bare
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing,… Read the rest
Exiled
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
… Read the rest