Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Scrub - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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If I grow bitterly,
Like a gnarled and stunted tree,
Bearing harshly of my youth
Puckered fruit that sears the mouth;
If I make of my drawn boughs
An Inshospitable House,
Out of which I nevery pry
Towards the water and the sky,
Under which I stand and hide
And hear the day go by outside;
It is that a wind to strong
Bent my back when I was young,
It is that I fear the rain
Lest it blister me again.


Comments about Scrub by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • Rookie - 37 Points Colleen Courtney (5/17/2014 12:38:00 PM)

    Such a sad poem. A woman choosing to live in seclusion. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: house, tree, rain, water, fear, wind, sky



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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