Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems
|161.||Dirge Without Music||1/13/2003|
|162.||And You As Well Must Die, Belovèd Dust||1/1/2004|
|163.||I, Being Born A Woman And Distressed||1/1/2004|
|166.||Afternoon On A Hill||1/4/2003|
|167.||What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii)||1/13/2003|
|168.||The Spring And The Fall||1/13/2003|
|169.||Love Is Not All||1/13/2003|
Love Is Not All
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of ...
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
And love me if you like.
I shall not hear the door shut
Nor the knocker strike.
Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts,
And wed me if you will.
I'd make a man a good wife,
Sensible and still.
And why should I be cold, my lad,