Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems
|161.||An Ancient Gesture||1/13/2003|
|162.||A Visit To The Asylum||1/13/2003|
|164.||The Spring And The Fall||1/13/2003|
|165.||Dirge Without Music||1/13/2003|
|166.||Afternoon On A Hill||1/4/2003|
|168.||Love Is Not All||1/13/2003|
|169.||What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii)||1/13/2003|
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
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.