Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millaywas an American poet and playwright. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923, the third woman to win the award for poetry, and was also known for her feminist activism. She used the pseudonym Nancy Boyd for her prose work. The poet Richard Wilbur asserted, "She wrote some of the best sonnets of the century."...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth22 February 1892
CountryUnited States of America
freedom hero air
let geese Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release From dusty bondage into luminous air.
spring purpose return
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
moving heart thinking
We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out; Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre.
lying struggle moving
I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year, Ere I forget, or die, or move away, And we are done forever; by and by I shall forget you, as I said, but now, If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow. I would indeed that love were longer-lived, And vows were not so brittle as they are, But so it is, and nature has contrived To struggle on without a break thus far,-- Whether or not we find what we are seeking Is idle, biologically speaking.
summer lonely morning
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning, but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. 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: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
matter transport train
There isn't a train I wouldn't take, no matter where it's going.
sleep cutting years
Cut if you will with sleep's dull knife, the years from off your life, my friend! the years that death takes off my life, he'll take from off the other end!
heart littles grows
The heart grows weary after a little Of what it loved for a little while.
life no-friends
Life has no friend ...
country liberty martyred
Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.
memories moon men
Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees,-- Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned...
death men good-man
Life must go on, Though good men die.
death blessed cutting
Blessed be Death, that cuts in marble What would have sunk to dust!
people tables aging
To be grown up is to sit at the table with people who have died, who neither listen nor speak ...