All Poems

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Sonnets 11: As To Some Lovely Temple, Tenantless

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

As to some lovely temple, tenantless
Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass,
Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass
Grown up between the stones, yet from excess

Underground System

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Set the foot down with distrust upon the crust of the
worldit is thin.
Moles are at work beneath us; they have tunneled the
sub-soil

Whereas At Morning In A Jeweled Crown

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown
I bit my fingers and was hard to please,
Having shook disaster till the fruit fell down
I feel tonight more happy and at ease:

Sonnets 02: Into The Golden Vessel Of Great Song

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Into the golden vessel of great song
Let us pour all our passion; breast to breast
Let other lovers lie, in love and rest;
Not we,articulate, so, but with the tongue

To S. M.

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

If he should lie a-dyingI AM not willing you should go
Into the earth, where Helen went;
She is awake by now, I know.
Where Cleopatra's anklets rust

The Blue-Flag In The Bog

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

God had called us, and we came;
Our loved Earth to ashes left;
Heaven was a neighbor's house,
Open to us, bereft.

The Penitent

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;

AS I went walking up and down to take the evening air,
(Sweet to meet upon the street, why must I be so shy?)
I saw him lay his hand upon her torn black hair;
("Little dirty Latin child, let the lady by!")

Sonnets 03: Not With Libations, But With Shouts And Laughter

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Not with libations, but with shouts and laughter
We drenched the altars of Love's sacred grove,
Shaking to earth green fruits, impatient after
The launching of the colored moths of Love.

Pastoral

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

If it were only still!
With far away the shrill
Crying of a cock;
Or the shaken bell

Lines Written In Recapitulation

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I could not bring this splendid world nor any trading beast
In charge of it, to defer, no, not to give ear, not in the least
Appearance, to my handsome prophecies,
which here I ponder and put by.

The Bean-Stalk

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Ho, Giant! This is I!
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
La,but it's lovely, up so high!

The Shroud

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!

The Singing-Woman From The Wood's Edge

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

What should I be but a prophet and a liar,
Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar?
Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water,
What should I be but the fiend's god-daughter?

Passer Mortuus Est

Death devours all lovely things;
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness,presently
Every bed is narrow.

She is Overheard Singing

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!

When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins

When we are old and these rejoicing veins
Are frosty channels to a muted stream,
And out of all our burning their remains
No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream,

The Poet And His Book

Down, you mongrel, Death!
Back into your kennel!
I have stolen breath
In a stalk of fennel!

The Betrothal

Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
And love me if you like.
I shall not hear the door shut
Nor the knocker strike.

If Still Your Orchards Bear

Brother, that breathe the August air
Ten thousand years from now,
And smellif still your orchards bear
Tart apples on the bough