But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you. — Edna St. Vincent Millay Copy Share Image
Lord, I do fear Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year My soul is all but out of me-let fall No… — 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
What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the… — 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
Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year. — 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
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
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
