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Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.

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
Free
Dandelions
Beautiful
Blossom
Life
Grass
Golden
Noble
Clean
Green
Common
Dandelion

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I am all the time talking about you, and bragging, to one person or another. I am like the Ancient Mariner, who had a tale in his heart he must unfold to all. I am always buttonholing somebody and saying, Someday you must meet my mother.
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
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Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere.
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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 now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
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Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off my life, he'll take from off the other end!
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You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.
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Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
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We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
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April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
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Oh, children, growing up to be Adventurers into sophistry, Forbear, forbear to be of those That read the rood to learn the rose.
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The younger generation forms a country of its own. It has no geographical boundaries. I've talked with young Hungarians in Budapest, with young Italians in Rome, with young Frenchmen in Paris, and with young people all over. ... These young people are going to do things. They are going to change things.
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What terrible fear causes Man to address the Void as Thou?
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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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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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