Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems

121. Euclid Alone 1/1/2004
122. Ebb 1/13/2003
123. When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face 1/1/2004
124. Departure 1/13/2003
125. Recuerdo 1/1/2004
126. Night Is My Sister, And How Deep In Love 1/13/2003
127. Second Fig 1/13/2003
128. Sonnet 02: Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied 1/13/2003
129. Travel 1/13/2003
130. I Dreamed I Moved Among The Elysian Fields 1/13/2003
131. Assault 1/13/2003
132. Exiled 1/13/2003
133. Mist In The Valley 1/13/2003
134. Alms 1/13/2003
135. Justice Denied In Massachusetts 1/13/2003
136. The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver 1/13/2003
137. If I Should Learn, In Some Quite Casual Way 1/1/2004
138. Burial 1/13/2003
139. Renascence 1/4/2003
140. [four Sonnets (1922)] 1/1/2004
141. Witch-Wife 1/13/2003
142. The Suicide 1/13/2003
143. Only Until This Cigarette Is Ended 1/1/2004
144. Pity Me Not Because The Light Of Day 1/13/2003
145. I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart 1/13/2003
146. Being Young And Green 1/13/2003
147. Oh, Oh, You Will Be Sorry 1/13/2003
148. God's World 1/4/2003
149. Here Is A Wound That Never Will Heal, I Know 1/13/2003
150. I Shall Go Back 1/1/2004
151. Counting-Out Rhyme 1/1/2004
152. Spring 1/13/2003
153. Bluebeard 1/1/2004
154. Ashes Of Life 1/13/2003
155. I, Being Born A Woman And Distressed 1/1/2004
156. And Do You Think That Love Itself 1/13/2003
157. And You As Well Must Die, Belovèd Dust 1/1/2004
158. Apostrophe To Man 1/13/2003
159. Autumn Daybreak 1/13/2003
160. City Trees 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)

The Shroud

Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,—O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!

(I, that would not wait to wear
My own bridal things,
In a dress dark as my hair
Made my answerings.

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