Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems

81. Lines For A Grave-Stone 1/1/2004
82. Intention To Escape From Him 1/13/2003
83. The Curse 1/13/2003
84. The Death Of Autumn 1/13/2003
85. Journey 1/13/2003
86. Indifference 1/13/2003
87. The Shroud 1/13/2003
88. Think Not, Not For A Moment Let Your Mind 1/13/2003
89. To The Not Impossible Him 1/13/2003
90. Ode To Silence 1/13/2003
91. Wild Swans 1/13/2003
92. I Do But Ask That You Be Always Fair 1/1/2004
93. Sonnet (Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now) 1/13/2003
94. Dirge 1/13/2003
95. To A Young Poet 1/1/2004
96. Epitaph 1/13/2003
97. Sonnets 04: Only Until This Cigarette Is Ended 1/13/2003
98. Sonnet 01: Thou Art Not Lovelier Than Lilacs,&Mdash;No 1/13/2003
99. Souvenir 1/13/2003
100. Exiled 1/13/2003
101. Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart 1/13/2003
102. The Goose-Girl 1/13/2003
103. Sorrow 1/13/2003
104. Doubt No More That Oberon 1/13/2003
105. Not In A Silver Casket Cool With Pearls 1/13/2003
106. Feast 1/13/2003
107. Chorus 1/13/2003
108. Recuerdo 1/1/2004
109. Midnight Oil 1/13/2003
110. The Leaf And The Tree 1/13/2003
111. Thursday 1/1/2004
112. Blight 1/13/2003
113. The Philosopher 1/13/2003
114. Kin To Sorrow 1/13/2003
115. When The Year Grows Old 1/4/2003
116. I Dreamed I Moved Among The Elysian Fields 1/13/2003
117. Grown-Up 1/1/2004
118. Night Is My Sister, And How Deep In Love 1/13/2003
119. Mariposa 1/13/2003
120. Euclid Alone 1/1/2004

Comments about Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • May. Red (1/13/2018 12:56:00 AM)

    @patricia My favorite poem ever. Short and to the point

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  • Patricia Stepanchak (12/15/2017 10:53:00 AM)

    My candle burns at both ends
    It will not last the night
    But oh my foes and ah my friends
    It gives a lovely light.
    This keeps running through my head.
    My college English Professor often quoted this poem as her favorite.

  • Betty Roe (1/18/2016 4:14:00 PM)

    can someone she light on the Edns St. Vincent Millay's poem, I Could No Let You Go from Mementos of Millay?

  • Hunter Freaking Foster (11/22/2013 3:21:00 PM)

    Truly an awesome poet. I majored in poetry, and I can say for myself that this is a great poet.

  • John Hardesty (7/2/2013 1:29:00 PM)

    Maine claims her, and America labeled her a poet! Would have loved to met her, in her time! One of my favorite and most cherished!

  • Willie Walker (2/16/2012 3:33:00 PM)

    And I to lie with you, Melissa. On a bright sunshiny morning in the High Sierras or in an evening during the magic of an alpenglow..

  • Gabrielle A. Macdonald (1/18/2012 7:25:00 PM)

    One of the poems iin which Millay is shattered and humiliated not by the loss of love but by the travesty of justice during the Sacco-Vanzetti trumped up trial. Both were executed - more for being Italian immigrants and anarchists..than for anything based on evidence. Compare to the infamous Dreyfuss Affair in France.
    The pernicious weeds have won, Millay's character thinks.

  • Michael Harmon (4/19/2009 4:24:00 PM)

    I guess my previous information was incorrect. This PH biography seems to imply she died from smoking; my understanding was that she fell down a flight of steps at her home and broke her neck.

  • Melissa Nelson (10/21/2005 7:00:00 AM)

    This poem created a relaxing feel for me. I would give anything to be able to just lay under the sun on a hill.

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)

Kin To Sorrow

Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door——
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow—

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