Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Sonnets 05: Once More Into My Arid Days Like Dew


Once more into my arid days like dew,
Like wind from an oasis, or the sound
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you
Comes to destroy me; once more I renew
Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found
Long since to be but just one other mound
Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.
And once again, and wiser in no wise,
I chase your colored phantom on the air,
And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise
And stumble pitifully on to where,
Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes,
Once more I clasp,—and there is nothing there.

Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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  • Colleen Courtney (5/17/2014 1:27:00 PM)

    There is so much pain in this poem. Can feel the poet crying out to be able to erase the memory of the one who's gone. (Report) Reply

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