Love 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

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.

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.

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 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

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

She is Overheard Singing

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

The Betrothal

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

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.

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!

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:

Memorial To D.C.

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!

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

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,

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

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.

Indifference

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