The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief or grief has… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I will come back to you, I swear I will; And you will know me still. I shall be only a little… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain-- Dawn will find them still again; This… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Earth does not understand her child, Who from the loud gregarious town Returns, depleted and defiled, To the still woods, to fling… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, The world is mine:… — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcome… — 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
