I find that I never lose Bach. I don't know why I have always loved him so. Except that he is so… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
It's little I know what's in my heart,What's in my mind it's little I know,But there's that in me must up and… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Marriage...one of the most civilized institutions in the world...But...swimming is one of the most wonderful of sports, and yet there are always… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more… — 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
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
