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
lying eye dust
She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes.
hurt book writing
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
rose ifs
I would blossom if I were a rose.
wall night men
And what are you that, missing you, I should be kept awake As many nights as there are days With weeping for your sake? And what are you that, missing you, As many days as crawl I should be listening to the wind And looking at the wall? I know a man that’s a braver man And twenty men as kind, And what are you, that you should be The one man in my mind? Yet women’s ways are witless ways, As any sage will tell,— And what am I, that I should love So wisely and so well?
children childhood kingdoms
Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.
grief goes-on forget
Life must go on; I forget just why.
love night light
My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
nature flower blooming
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
god sky two
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
shelter
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
i-miss-you missing-you broken-heart
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
beauty beautiful names
Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
wings bird together
To a Young Poet Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird. Bird and wing together Go down, one feather. No thing that ever flew, Not the lark, not you, Can die as others do.
beauty giving joy
Beauty is whatever gives joy.