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When I can make Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! I had you and I have you now no more.
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
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Writer
Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Hang
Ten
Small
Words
Make
World
Rope
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.
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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.
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Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.
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I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
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That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
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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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A grave is such a quiet place.
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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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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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There is no shelter in you anywhere.
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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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Not poppy, nor mandrake, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep, Which thou owest yesterday.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
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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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I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
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Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
Edna St. Vincent Millay