“And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass,… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“If in the moonlight from the silent bough Suddenly with precision speak your name The nightingale, be not assured that now His… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Ah, drink again This river that is the taker-away of pain, And the giver-back of beauty! In these cool waves What can… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Spring TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
You wrote me a beautiful letter, I wonder if you meant it to be as beautiful as it was. I think you… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief or grief has drained me… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“And you as well must die, beloved dust, And all your beauty stand you in no stead; This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Some of us have been thinking and talking too long without doing anything. Poems are perfect; picketing, sometimes, is better. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“But, sure, the sky is big, I said; Miles and miles above my head; So here upon my back I'll lie And look my… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
