All Poems

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Sonnet 04: Not In This Chamber Only At My Birth

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

So is no warmth for me at any fire
To-day, when the world's fire has burned so low;
I kneel, spending my breath in vain desire,
At that cold hearth which one time roared so strong,
And straighten back in weariness, and long
To gather up my little gods and go.

The Merry Maid

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

OH, I am grown so free from care
Since my heart broke!
I set my throat against the air,
I laugh at simple folk!

Wraith

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Someone living here before
"Nobody's in the house but me:
You may come in if you like and see."

The Return From Town

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

As I sat down by Saddle Stream
To bathe my dusty feet there,
A boy was standing on the bridge
Any girl would meet there.

My Most Distinguished Guest And Learned Friend

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

My most Distinguished Guest and Learned Friend,
The pallid hare that runs before the day
Having brought your earnest counsels to an end
Now have I somewhat of my own to say:

Scrub

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

If I grow bitterly,
Like a gnarled and stunted tree,
Bearing harshly of my youth
Puckered fruit that sears the mouth;

Sonnet 03: Mindful Of You The Sodden Earth In Spring

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

You go no more on your exultant feet
Up paths that only mist and morning knew,
Or watch the wind, or listen to the beat
Of a bird's wings too high in air to view,
But you were something more than young and sweet
And fair,and the long year remembers you.

Make Bright The Arrows

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Make bright the arrows
Gather the shields:
Conquest narrows
The peaceful fields.

Portrait By A Neighbour

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Before she has her floor swept
Or her dishes done,
Any day you'll find her
A-sunning in the sun!

Memorial To D.C.

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

O, loveliest throat of all sweet throats,
Where now no more the music is,
With hands that wrote you little notes
I write you little elegies!

The Prisoner

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

ALL right,
Go ahead!
What's in a name?
I guess I'll be locked into
As much as I'm locked out of!

Song Of A Second April

© 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.

Sonnets 01: We Talk Of Taxes, And I Call You Friend

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are,but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,

Kin To Sorrow

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door
Neither loud nor soft,

The Wood Road

If I were to walk this way
Hand in hand with Grief,
I should mark that maple-spray
Coming into leaf.

Sonnets 08: And You As Well Must Die, Beloved Du

And you as well must die, beloved dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust

The Little Hill

Oh, here the air is sweet and still,
And soft's the grass to lie on;
And far away's the little hill
They took for Christ to die on.

To Those Without Pity

Cruel of heart, lay down my song,
Your reading eyes have done me wrong,
Not for you was the pen bitten,
And the mind wrung, and the song written.

To The Not Impossible Him

How shall I know, unless I go
To Cairo and Cathay,
Whether or not this blessed spot
Is blest in every way?

The Concert

You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.