All Poems

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Sonnets 05: Once More Into My Arid Days Like Dew

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Once more into my arid days like dew,
Like wind from an oasis, or the sound
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you

Indifference

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I said,for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,
"I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in
bed;
But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some

I Know The Face Of Falsehood And Her Tongue

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know the face of Falsehood and her Tongue
Honeyed with unction, Plausible with guile,
Are dear to men, whom count me not among,
That owe their daily credit to her smile;

Ebb

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool

Souvenir

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Just a rainy day or two
In a windy tower,
That was all I had of you
Saving half an hour.

Sonnets 12: Cherish You Then The Hope I Shall Forget

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Cherish you then the hope I shall forget
At length, my lord, Pieria?put away
For your so passing sake, this mouth of clay
These mortal bones against my body set,

Three Songs Of Shattering

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
Nothing mattered.

Archaic, or obsolescent at the least,
Be thy grave speaking and the careful words of thy clear song,
For the time wrongs us, and the words most common to our speech today
Salute and welcome to the feast
Conspicuous Evil or against him all day long
Cry out, telling of ugly deeds and most uncommon wrong.

Mist In The Valley

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

These hills, to hurt me more,
That am hurt already enough,
Having left the sea behind,
Having turned suddenly and left the shore
That I had loved beyond all words, even a song's words, to
convey,

Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

IIIOH, THINK not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I save to love's self alone.
Were you not lovely I would leave you now:
After the feet of beauty fly my own.

The Little Ghost

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is highhigher than most
And the green gate was locked.

Blight

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Hard seeds of hate I planted
That should by now be grown,
Rough stalks, and from thick stamens
A poisonous pollen blown,
And odors rank, unbreathable,
From dark corollas thrown!

To Kathleen

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

STILL must the poet as of old,
In barren attic bleak and cold,
Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to
Such things as flowers and song and you;

Dirge

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Boys and girls that held her dear,
Do your weeping now;
All you loved of her lies here.

Low-Tide

These wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down

Midnight Oil

Cut if you will, with Sleep's dull knife,
Each day to half its length, my friend,
The years that Time take off my life,
He'll take from off the other end!

Rosemary

For the sake of some things
That be now no more
I will strew rushes
On my chamber-floor,
I will plant bergamot
At my kitchen-door.

Think Not, Not For A Moment Let Your Mind

Think not, not for a moment let your mind,
Wearied with thinking, doze upon the thought
That the work's done and the long day behind,
And beauty, since 'tis paid for, can be bought.

Sonnets 06: No Rose That In A Garden Ever Grew

No rose that in a garden ever grew,
In Homer's or in Omar's or in mine,
Though buried under centuries of fine
Dead dust of roses, shut from sun and dew

Menses

(He speaks, but to himself, being aware how it is with her)
Think not I have not heard.
Well-fanged the double word
And well-directed flew.