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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

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
Rest
Bend
Loved
Roses
Shall
Happiest
Thing
Corn
Ghost
Endure
Sanguine
Rose
Haunt
Scene
Dense

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That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears.
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I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
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Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, - Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned.
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One things there's no getting by, I've been a wicked girl, Says I... But, if I can't be sorry I might as well be glad !
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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death I am not on his pay-roll.
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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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Life must go on I forget just why.
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Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
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A grave is such a quiet place.
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Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do Men a longer life than dogs do Dogs a longer life than love does.
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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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I love humanity but I hate people.
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When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
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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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Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me in a book I wrote, How first you loved me for a written line.
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