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Time can make soft that iron wood.

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
Woods
Make
Time
Wood
Soft
Iron

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Youth, have no pity leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
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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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Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
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I am not at all in favor of hard work for its own sake many people who work very hard indeed produce terrible things, and should most certainly not be encouraged.
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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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There is no shelter in you anywhere.
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Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain-- Dawn will find them still again This has neither wax nor wane, Neither stop nor start.
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Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.
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A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.
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And all the loveliest things there be come simply, so it seems to me.
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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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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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Music my rampart, and my only one.
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I am not a tentative person. Whatever I do, I give up my whole self to it.
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Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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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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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.
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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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... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight
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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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