Edna St. Vincent Millay

1892-1950 / Female / American
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Afternoon On A HillI will be the gladdest thing / Under the sun! / I will touch a hundred flowers
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AlmsMy heart is what it was before, / A house where people come and go; / But it is winter with your love,
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And You As Well Must Die, Beloved DustAnd you as well must die, beloved dust, / And all your beauty stand you in no stead; / This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
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Ashes Of LifeLove has gone and left me and the days are all alike; / Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were here! / But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
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AssaultI / I had forgotten how the frogs must sound / After a year of silence, else I think
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As To Some Lovely Temple, TenantlessAs to some lovely temple, tenantless / Long since, that once was sweet with shivering brass, / Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass
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BlightGive me truths, / For I am weary of the surfaces, / And die of inanition. If I knew
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BluebeardThis door you might not open, and you did; / So enter now, and see for what slight thing / You are betrayed. . . . Here is no treasure hid,
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BurialMine is a body that should die at sea! / And have for a grave, instead of a grave / Six feet deep and the length of me,
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Cherish You Then The Hope I Shall ForgetCherish you then the hope I shall forget / At length, my lord, Pieria?—put away / For your so passing sake, this mouth of clay
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