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Stranger, pause and look From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Edna St. Vincent Millay
Age: 58 †
Born: 1892
Born: February 22
Died: 1950
Died: October 19
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Looks
Dies
Stranger
Fading
Age
Dust
Binding
Turns
Findings
Pause
Read
Finding
Pauses
Littles
Letters
Lift
Look
Pages
Lifts
Little
Broken
Ages
Tattered
Book
Turn
Search
Steadfast

More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.
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Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.
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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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It's not true that life is one damn thing after another it is one damn thing over and over.
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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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I have loved badly, loved the great Too soon, withdrawn my words too late And eaten in an echoing hall Alone and from a chipped plate The words that I withdrew too late.
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Evil alone has oil for every wheel.
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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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Beauty never slumbers All is in her name But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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My candle burns at both ends it will not last the night but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.
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Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.
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But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.
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When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most
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Time can make soft that iron wood.
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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Please don't think me negligent or rude. I am both, in effect, of course, but please don't think me either.
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