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it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.
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
Brothers
Welcome
Proposals
Although
Harper
Brother
Proposal
May
Advances
Reject
Rejects
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We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
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Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?
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When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
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You are loved. If so, what else matters?
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I screamed, and--lo!--Infinity Came down and settled over me
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What should I be but just what I am?
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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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Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
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It's little I know what's in my heart,What's in my mind it's little I know,But there's that in me must up and start,And it's little I care where my feet go.
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O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
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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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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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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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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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Love is not all it is not meat nor drink.
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She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.
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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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Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
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Time can make soft that iron wood.
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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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