Edna St. Vincent Millay

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

Whereas At Morning In A Jeweled Crown - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown
I bit my fingers and was hard to please,
Having shook disaster till the fruit fell down
I feel tonight more happy and at ease:
Feet running in the corridors, men quick—
Buckling their sword-belts, bumping down the stair,
Challenge, and rattling bridge-chain, and the click
Of hooves on pavement—this will clear the air.
Private this chamber as it has not been
In many a month of muffled hours; almost,
Lulled by the uproar, I could lie serene
And sleep, until all's won, until all's lost,
And the door's opened and the issue shown,
And I walk forth Hell's Mistress—or my own.


Comments about Whereas At Morning In A Jeweled Crown by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • (5/17/2014 4:32:00 PM)


    After many reads I still find this a perplexing poem. Would love to hear how others interpret! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: running, happy, sleep, lost



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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