There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“ Time Does Not Bring Relief Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
The world stands out on either side No wider than the heart is wide; Above the world is stretched the sky, No… — 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
