Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Edna St. Vincent Millay: Weeds

White with daisies and red with sorrel
And empty, empty under the sky!—
Life is a quest and love a quarrel—
Here is a place for me to lie.

Daisies spring from damnèd seeds,
And this red fire that here I see
Is a worthless crop of crimson weeds,
Cursed by farmers thriftily.

But here, unhated for an hour,
The sorrel runs in ragged flame,
The daisy stands, a bastard flower,
Like flowers that bear an honest name.

And here a while, where no wind brings
The baying of a pack athirst,
May sleep the sleep of blessèd things,
The blood too bright, the brow accurst.


 

This poem was originally published in Second April (1921). Public domain. 

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This entry was posted on August 31, 2018 by in Opinion Leaders, Poetry and tagged , .
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