Let You Not Say Of Me When I Am Old (Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems)
Let you not say of me when I am old,In pretty worship of my withered handsForgetting who I am, and ...
Let you not say of me when I am old,In pretty worship of my withered handsForgetting who I am, and ...
They are like a crystal,words.Some a dagger,some a blaze.Others,merely dew.Secret they come, full of memory.Insecurely they sail:cockleboats or kisses,the waters ...
Marrying left yor maiden name disused. Its five light sounds no longer mean your face, Your voice, and all your ...
(from a painting by hugo simberg) those who bear the wounded angel are they honoured or destroyed far beyond their ...
Spring Up, up you go, you must be introduced. You must learn belonging to (no-one) Drenched in the white veil ...
I What new element before us unborn in nature? Is there a new thing under the Sun? At last inquisitive ...
Oh they got the name right when they named these Ancient flyers of the sun tail like an alligator's flesh ...
Under the parabola of a ball, a child turning into a man, I looked into the air too long. The ...
The priest never used blueprints, but worked all the many designs out of his head. Father Wilerus, transplanted Alsatian, built ...
They talked to me again today, they spoke in gentle tones and said the things I ought to hear then ...
A week before the Armistice, you died. They did not keep your heart like Livingstone's, then plant your bones near ...
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing ...
Neutrinos do zip but swap back and forth into each other, much like Rosypoop and Guildendoo do. For years it ...
This celestial seascape, with white herons got up as angels, flying high as they want and as far as they ...
It was a pure white cloud that hung there in the blue, or a jellyfish on a waveless sea, suspended ...
Sometimes the sky's too bright, Or has too many clouds or birds, And far away's too sharp a sun To ...
For Sharon Horvath From the shadow of domes in the city of domes, A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, ...
I I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of driving alone, without ...
I love you - though it makes me beat, Though vain it seems, and melancholy - Yet to this shameless, ...
Let you not say of me when I am old, In pretty worship of my withered hands Forgetting who I ...
All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence. Yet I believe you, messengers. There, where the world ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories