Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom golden in the green grass, this life can be. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Life isn't all beer and skittles; few of us have touched a skittle in years. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Life isn't one thing after another, it's the same thing over and over. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers The buck in the snow . . .… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed … — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Although we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was death.” — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off… — 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
Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Life in itself / Is nothing, / An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. / It is not enough that yearly,… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with you all through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed, Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“And all at once the heavy night Fell from my eyes and I could see, -- A drenched and dripping apple-tree, A… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind, Am urged by your propinquity to… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating… — 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
