Edna St. Vincent Millay

(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 / Rockland / Maine / United States)

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems

121. The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver 1/13/2003
122. The Bean-Stalk 1/13/2003
123. The Betrothal 1/1/2004
124. The Blue-Flag In The Bog 1/13/2003
125. The Concert 1/13/2003
126. The Courage That My Mother Had 1/3/2015
127. The Curse 1/13/2003
128. The Death Of Autumn 1/13/2003
129. The Dream 1/13/2003
130. The Fawn 1/13/2003
131. The Fledgling 1/13/2003
132. The Goose-Girl 1/13/2003
133. The Leaf And The Tree 1/13/2003
134. The Little Ghost 1/13/2003
135. The Little Hill 1/13/2003
136. The Penitent 1/13/2003
137. The Philosopher 1/13/2003
138. The Plaid Dress 1/13/2003
139. The Poet And His Book 1/13/2003
140. The Prisoner 7/30/2015
141. The Return From Town 1/13/2003
142. The Shroud 1/13/2003
143. The Singing-Woman From The Wood's Edge 1/13/2003
144. The Snow Storm 1/13/2003
145. The Spring And The Fall 1/13/2003
146. The Suicide 1/13/2003
147. The True Encounter 1/13/2003
148. The Unexplorer 1/13/2003
149. The Wood Road 1/13/2003
150. Think Not, Not For A Moment Let Your Mind 1/13/2003
151. Three Songs Of Shattering 1/13/2003
152. Thursday 1/1/2004
153. To A Poet That Died Young 1/13/2003
154. To A Young Poet 1/1/2004
155. To Kathleen 1/1/2004
156. To The Not Impossible Him 1/13/2003
157. To Those Without Pity 1/13/2003
158. Travel 1/13/2003
159. Two Sonnets In Memory 1/13/2003
160. Underground System 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Edna St. Vincent Millay

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii)

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 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 ...

Read the full of What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii)

The Shroud

Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,—O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!

(I, that would not wait to wear
My own bridal things,
In a dress dark as my hair
Made my answerings.

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