“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
“ Love is Not All Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“Tis not love’s going hurts my days, But that it went in little ways” — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“ Dirge Without Music I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is,… — 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
“ Song of a Second April APRIL this year, not otherwise Than April of a year ago Is full of whispers, full… — 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
If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half… — 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
The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled… — 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
“ Ebb I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished? — 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
“The undercurrent of my every thought: To seek you, find you, have you for my own.” — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
“Relaxing me from head to feet Love masters me, the bitter sweet O'er thy limbs breathing; Yea, Eros now, the god born… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! "I had you and I have you now… — 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
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
