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... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
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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Rockland
Maine
Nancy Boyd
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Full
Ghosts
Tonight
Ghost
Rain
More quotes by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend.
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Music my rampart, and my only one.
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I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?
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To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
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A grave is such a quiet place.
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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.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
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After the feet of beauty fly my own.
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Life has no friend.
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The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
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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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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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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!
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If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Dust in an urn long since, dispersed and dead Is great Apollo and the happier he
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Please don't think me negligent or rude. I am both, in effect, of course, but please don't think me either.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
