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Sep 2017
[by Edna St. Vincent Millay]*
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Edna Millay fits in so well with the spirit of Hello Poetry:  a strong passionate woman, expressing her feelings so perfectly in verse!   This is the fourth of ten or so of her poems I'll be posting....
Lucius Furius
Written by
Lucius Furius  67/M/Evanston, IL
(67/M/Evanston, IL)   
290
   Graff1980
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