Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Sonnet Vi: This Door You Might Not Open - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed.... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see.... Look yet again--
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.

Comments about Sonnet Vi: This Door You Might Not Open by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • Rookie - 45 Points Colleen Courtney (5/17/2014 1:13:00 PM)

    Find this piece to he so ssd and hearfellt. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: greed, women, truth, alone, night, sonnet, mirror, woman

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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