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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?

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
Need
Needs
Love
Perished

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What terrible fear causes Man to address the Void as Thou?
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Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.
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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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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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It's not true that life is one damn thing after another it is one damn thing over and over.
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Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand. Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
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Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
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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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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
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Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
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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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If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is true.
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This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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I will come back to you, I swear I will And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.
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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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But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
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If ever I said in grief or pride, I'd tired of honest things, I lied.
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What should I be but just what I am?
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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.
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I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
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