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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.
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
Stills
Beats
Still
Rain
Find
Neither
Wane
Heart
Sorrow
Ceaseless
Like
Stop
Twist
People
Start
Twists
Upon
Scream
Pain
Dawn
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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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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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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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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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pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.
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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.
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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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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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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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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
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Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
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Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.
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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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But she was not made for any man, and she will never be all mine.
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Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
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I love humanity but I hate people.
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If I could have two things in one: the peace of the grave, and the light of the sun.
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Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before
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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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