Edna St. Vincent Millay: “Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!”
Was it my enemy or my friend I heard,
“What a big book for such a little head!”
Come, I will show you now my newest hat,
And you may watch me purse my mouth and prink!
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Ebb
I know what my heart is like
Since your love died
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Renascence
All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked the other way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: When you, that at this moment are to me
When you, that at this moment are to me
Dearer than words on paper, shall depart,
And be no more the warder of my heart…
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Recuerdo
We hailed, “Good morrow, mother!” to a shawl-
covered head,
And bought a morning paper which neither of us
read;
And she wept, “God bless you!” for the apples and
pears,
and we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
Michelle Bitting: Pandemic Mask Sonnet
The world’s gone mad at the wheel
While bees and seas soar for bloom, germs and chaos
Straining against reorder.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Afternoon on a Hill
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: She had forgotten how the August Night
She had forgotten how the August night
Was level as a lake beneath the moon,
In which she swam a little, losing sight
Of shore
Edna St. Vincent Millay: I shall go back again to the bleak shore
I shall go back again to the bleak shore
And build a little shanty on the sand…
Edna St. Vincent Millay: “Parisian Dream” by Charles Baudelaire
And, proud of what my art had done,
I viewed my painting, knew the great
Intoxicating monotone
Of marble, water, steel and slate.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Travel
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: The courage that my mother had
The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
Edna St. Vincent Millay: I shall forget you presently, my dear (Sonnet IV)
I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day
Edna St. Vincent Millay: Oh, sleep forever in the Latmian cave
Oh, sleep forever in the Latmian cave,
Mortal Endymion, darling of the Moon!
Vox Populi 