Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Three Songs Of Shattering - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I

The first rose on my rose-tree
Budded, bloomed, and shattered,
During sad days when to me
Nothing mattered.

Grief of grief has drained me clean;
Still it seems a pity
No one saw,—it must have been
Very pretty.

II

Let the little birds sing;
Let the little lambs play;
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring;—
But not in the old way!

I recall a place
Where a plum-tree grew;
There you lifted up your face,
And blossoms covered you.

If the little birds sing,
And the little lambs play,
Spring is here; and so 'tis spring—
But not in the old way!

III

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree!
Ere spring was going—ah, spring is gone!
And there comes no summer to the like of you and me,—
Blossom time is early, but no fruit sets on.

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree,
Browned at the edges, turned in a day;
And I would with all my heart they trimmed a mound for me,
And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!


Comments about Three Songs Of Shattering by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • Rookie - 37 Points Colleen Courtney (5/17/2014 3:36:00 PM)

    Love all three of these little pieces. Beautiful and vivid images invoked with the reading of them all. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: spring, dog, tree, grief, rose, sad, summer



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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