Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems

121. The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver 1/13/2003
122. The Bean-Stalk 1/13/2003
123. The Betrothal 1/1/2004
124. The Blue-Flag In The Bog 1/13/2003
125. The Concert 1/13/2003
126. The Courage That My Mother Had 1/3/2015
127. The Curse 1/13/2003
128. The Death Of Autumn 1/13/2003
129. The Dream 1/13/2003
130. The Fawn 1/13/2003
131. The Fledgling 1/13/2003
132. The Goose-Girl 1/13/2003
133. The Leaf And The Tree 1/13/2003
134. The Little Ghost 1/13/2003
135. The Little Hill 1/13/2003
136. The Penitent 1/13/2003
137. The Philosopher 1/13/2003
138. The Plaid Dress 1/13/2003
139. The Poet And His Book 1/13/2003
140. The Prisoner 7/30/2015
141. The Return From Town 1/13/2003
142. The Shroud 1/13/2003
143. The Singing-Woman From The Wood's Edge 1/13/2003
144. The Snow Storm 1/13/2003
145. The Spring And The Fall 1/13/2003
146. The Suicide 1/13/2003
147. The True Encounter 1/13/2003
148. The Unexplorer 1/13/2003
149. The Wood Road 1/13/2003
150. Think Not, Not For A Moment Let Your Mind 1/13/2003
151. Three Songs Of Shattering 1/13/2003
152. Thursday 1/1/2004
153. To A Poet That Died Young 1/13/2003
154. To A Young Poet 1/1/2004
155. To Kathleen 1/1/2004
156. To The Not Impossible Him 1/13/2003
157. To Those Without Pity 1/13/2003
158. Travel 1/13/2003
159. Two Sonnets In Memory 1/13/2003
160. Underground System 1/13/2003

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

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • 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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