Edna St. Vincent Millay

1892-1950 / Female / American
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ExiledSearching my heart for its true sorrow, / This is the thing I find to be: / That I am weary of words and people,
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When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your FaceWhen I too long have looked upon your face, / Wherein for me a brightness unobscured / Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
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Only Until This Cigarette Is EndedOnly until this cigarette is ended, / A little moment at the end of all, / While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
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City TreesThe trees along this city street, / Save for the traffic and the trains, / Would make a sound as thin and sweet
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We Talk Of Taxes, And I Call You FriendWe talk of taxes, and I call you friend; / Well, such you are,—but well enough we know / How thick about us root, how rankly grow
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Prayer To PersephoneBe to her, Persephone, / All the things I might not be; / Take her head upon your knee.
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EpitaphHeap not on this mound / Roses that she loved so well; / Why bewilder her with roses,
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TravelThe railroad track is miles away, / And the day is loud with voices speaking, / Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
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ElaineOh, come again to Astolat! / I will not ask you to be kind. / And you may go when you will go,
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Four Sonnets: 01 (Love, Though For This You Riddle Me With Darts)Love, though for this you riddle me with darts, / And drag me at your chariot till I die,— / Oh, heavy prince! O, panderer of hearts!—
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