Memorial To D.C. (Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems)
(Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that ...
(Vassar College, 1918) O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is, With hands that ...
Death devours all lovely things; Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness,-presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain ...
So, art thou feahered, art thou flown, Thou naked thing?-and canst alone Upon the unsolid summer air Sustain thyself, and ...
All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked another ...
The trees along this city street, Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as thin and ...
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,-no, Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair Than small white single poppies,-I can bear ...
People that build their houses inland, People that buy a plot of ground Shaped like a house, and build a ...
Edna St. Vincent Millay - Intention To Escape From Him I think I will learn some beautiful language, useless for ...
Doubt no more that Oberon- Never doubt that Pan Lived, and played a reed, and ran After nymphs in a ...
Just a rainy day or two In a windy tower, That was all I had of you- Saving half an ...
Before she has her floor swept Or her dishes done, Any day you'll find her A-sunning in the sun! It's ...
What should I be but a prophet and a liar, Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar? ...
Being Young and Green, I said in love's despite: Never in the world will I to living wight Give over, ...
Aye, but she? Your other sister and my other soul Grave Silence, lovelier Than the three loveliest maidens, what of ...
She is neither pink nor pale, And she never will be all mine; She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, ...
This door you might not open, and you did; So enter now, and see for what slight thing You are ...
Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in ...
(He speaks, but to himself, being aware how it is with her) Think not I have not heard. Well-fanged the ...
I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little ...
Make bright the arrows Gather the shields: Conquest narrows The peaceful fields. Stock well the quiver With arrows bright: The ...
Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine,-O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any ...
Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow ...
There will be rose and rhododendron When you are dead and under ground; Still will be heard from white syringas ...
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain,- Dawn will find them still ...
When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, ...
Spring rides no horses down the hill, But comes on foot, a goose-girl still. And all the loveliest things there ...
No rose that in a garden ever grew, In Homer's or in Omar's or in mine, Though buried under centuries ...
I know the face of Falsehood and her Tongue Honeyed with unction, Plausible with guile, Are dear to men, whom ...
Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring, And all the flowers that in the springtime grow, And dusty roads, ...
Ho, Giant! This is I! I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky! La,-but it's lovely, up so high! ...
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