Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems

81. Epitaph 1/13/2003
82. No Rose That In A Garden Ever Grew 1/1/2004
83. Ode To Silence 1/13/2003
84. The Concert 1/13/2003
85. The Death Of Autumn 1/13/2003
86. Modern Declaration 1/13/2003
87. Indifference 1/13/2003
88. Sonnet 05: If I Should Learn, In Some Quite Casual Way 1/13/2003
89. Souvenir 1/13/2003
90. Humoresque 1/1/2004
91. Interim 1/13/2003
92. Think Not, Not For A Moment Let Your Mind 1/13/2003
93. Wild Swans 1/13/2003
94. Midnight Oil 1/13/2003
95. Sonnet (Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now) 1/13/2003
96. To A Young Poet 1/1/2004
97. The Curse 1/13/2003
98. The Philosopher 1/13/2003
99. Sonnets 04: Only Until This Cigarette Is Ended 1/13/2003
100. Sonnet 01: Thou Art Not Lovelier Than Lilacs,&Mdash;No 1/13/2003
101. Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart 1/13/2003
102. Sorrow 1/13/2003
103. Kin To Sorrow 1/13/2003
104. Not In A Silver Casket Cool With Pearls 1/13/2003
105. Thursday 1/1/2004
106. I Do But Ask That You Be Always Fair 1/1/2004
107. Sonnets 07: When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face 1/13/2003
108. Chorus 1/13/2003
109. Recuerdo 1/1/2004
110. Grown-Up 1/1/2004
111. The Goose-Girl 1/13/2003
112. Blight 1/13/2003
113. The Leaf And The Tree 1/13/2003
114. Lament 1/13/2003
115. The Dream 1/13/2003
116. I Dreamed I Moved Among The Elysian Fields 1/13/2003
117. Feast 1/13/2003
118. When The Year Grows Old 1/4/2003
119. Night Is My Sister, And How Deep In Love 1/13/2003
120. Low-Tide 1/13/2003

Comments about Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • fonye ephesian (6/16/2018 11:41:00 AM)

    Music brings the inspiration of our ancesstors

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  • May. Red (1/13/2018 12:56:00 AM)

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

  • 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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