Renascence (Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems)
All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked another ...
All I could see from where I stood Was three long mountains and a wood; I turned and looked another ...
Aye, but she?Your other sister and my other soulGrave Silence, lovelierThan the three loveliest maidens, what of her?Clio, not you,Not ...
The room is full of you!—As I came in And closed the door behind me, all at once A something ...
I When you, that at this moment are to me Dearer than words on paper, shall ...
Read by the poet at The Public Ceremonial of The National Institute of Arts and Letters at Carnegie Hall, New ...
Down, you mongrel, Death!Back into your kennel!I have stolen breathIn a stalk of fennel!You shall scratch and you shall whineMany ...
Let us abandon then our gardens and go homeAnd sit in the sitting-roomShall the larkspur blossom or the corn grow ...
When will you learn, myself, to bea dying leaf on a living tree?Budding, swelling, growing strong,Wearing green, but not for ...
I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death.I hear him leading his horse out of ...
Not even my pride shall suffer much;Not even my pride at all, maybe,If this ill-timed, intemperate clutchBe loosed by you ...
Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now; All you loved of her lies here. Brought to earth the arrogant brow, And the withering tongue Chastened; do your weeping now. Sing whatever songs are sung, Wind whatever wreath, For a playmate perished young, For a spirit spent in death. Boys and girls that held her dear, All you loved of her lies here.(Edna St. Vincent Millay)
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with ...
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,—no, Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair Than small white single poppies,—I ...
The doctor asked her what she wanted done With him, that could not lie there many days. And she was ...
I do but ask that you be always fair That I forever may continue kind; Knowing me what I am, ...
Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this:How in the years to come unscrupulous Time,More cruel than Death, will tear ...
Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,But of a ...
And you as well must die, beloved dust,And all your beauty stand you in no stead;This flawless, vital hand, this ...
Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine,—O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good ...
Doubt no more that Oberon—Never doubt that PanLived, and played a reed, and ranAfter nymphs in a dark forest,In the ...
Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in ...
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over. And what did I see I had not seen ...
Death devours all lovely things;Lesbia with her sparrowShares the darkness, presentlyEvery bed is narrowUnremembered as old rainDries the sheer libation,And ...
Let us abandon then our gardens and go home And sit in the sitting-room Shall the larkspur blossom or the ...
Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,-no, Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair Than small white single poppies,-I can bear ...
The room is full of you!-As I came in And closed the door behind me, all at once A something ...
When will you learn, myself, to be a dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, ...
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over. And what did I see I had not seen ...
Butterflies are white and blue In this field we wander through. Suffer me to take your hand. Death comes in ...
Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this: How in the years to come unscrupulous Time, More cruel than Death, ...
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