All Poems

/ page 2825 of 3210 /

Order by :

Doubt No More That Oberon

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Doubt no more that Oberon
Never doubt that Pan
Lived, and played a reed, and ran
After nymphs in a dark forest,

Daphne

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Why do you follow me?
Any moment I can be
Nothing but a laurel-tree.

Feast

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I drank at every vine.
The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
So wonderful as thirst.

Sonnets From An Ungrafted Tree

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

XLII, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair, and feel a certain zest

Sonnets 09: Let You Not Say Of Me When I Am Old

In me no lenten wicks watch out the night;
I am the booth where Folly holds her fair;
Impious no less in ruin than in strength,
When I lie crumbled to the earth at length,
Let you not say, "Upon this reverend site
The righteous groaned and beat their breasts in prayer."

Thursday

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

AND if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday
So much is true.

The Fawn

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Surely his mother had never said, "Lie here
Till I return," so spotty and plain to see
On the green moss lay he.
His eyes had opened; he considered me.

Fontaine, Je Ne Boirai Pas De Ton Eau!

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know I might have lived in such a way
As to have suffered only pain:
Loving not man nor dog;
Not money, even; feeling

Not Even My Pride Shall Suffer Much

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Not even my pride shall suffer much;
Not even my pride at all, maybe,
If this ill-timed, intemperate clutch
Be loosed by you and not by me,

Second Fig

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

The Plaid Dress

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

No more uncoloured than unmade,
I fear, can be this garment that I may not doff;
Confession does not strip it off,
To send me homeward eased and bare;

The Curse

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Oh, lay my ashes on the wind
That blows across the sea.
And I shall meet a fisherman
Out of Capri,

Sonnets 10: Oh, My Beloved, Have You Thought Of This

Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this:
How in the years to come unscrupulous Time,
More cruel than Death, will tear you from my kiss,
And make you old, and leave me in my prime?

When The Year Grows Old

I cannot but remember
When the year grows old
OctoberNovember
How she disliked the cold!

The Goose-Girl

Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still.
And all the loveliest things there be
Come simply, so, it seems to me.

Mariposa

Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.

Intention To Escape From Him

Edna St. Vincent Millay - Intention To Escape From Him I think I will learn some beautiful language, useless for commercial
Purposes, work hard at that.
I think I will learn the Latin name of every songbird, not only in
America but wherever they sing.