Millay by Edna St. Vincent Millay -- Read -- Imperial Library of Trantor

Index

Cover Title Page Copyright Contents Renascence and Other Poems

Renascence Interim The Suicide God’s World Afternoon on a Hill Sorrow Tavern Ashes of Life The Little Ghost Kin to Sorrow Three Songs of Shattering

I. The first rose on my rose-tree II. Let the little birds sing III. All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree!

The Shroud The Dream Indifference Witch-Wife Blight When the Year Grows Old Sonnets

I. Thou art not lovelier than lilacs, – no II. Time does not bring relief; you all have lied III. Mindful of you the sodden earth in spring IV. Not in this chamber only at my birth V. If I should learn, in some quite casual way VI. Bluebeard

A Few Figs From Thistles

First Fig Second Fig Recuerdo Thursday To the Not Impossible Him MacDougal Street The Singing-Woman from the Wood’s Edge She Is Overheard Singing The Prisoner The Unexplorer Grown-up The Penitent Daphne Portrait by a Neighbor Midnight Oil The Merry Maid To Kathleen To S. M. The Philosopher Sonnets

I. Love, though for this you riddle me with darts II. I think I should have loved you presently III. Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow! IV. I shall forget you presently, my dear

Second April

Spring City Trees The Blue-Flag in the Bog Journey Eel-Grass Elegy Before Death The Bean-Stalk Weeds Passer Mortuus Est Pastoral Assault Travel Low-Tide Song of a Second April Rosemary The Poet and His Book Alms Inland To a Poet That Died Young Wraith Ebb Elaine Burial Mariposa The Little Hill Doubt No More That Oberon Lament Exiled The Death of Autumn Ode to Silence Memorial to D. C. Epitaph Prayer to Persephone Chorus Elegy Dirge Sonnets

I. We talk of taxes, and I call you friend II. Into the golden vessel of great song III. Not with libations, but with shouts and laughter IV. Only until this cigarette is ended V. Once more into my arid days like dew VI. No rose that in a garden ever grew VII. When I too long have looked upon your face VIII. And you as well must die, belovèd dust IX. Let you not say of me when I am old X. Oh, my belovèd, have you thought of this XI. As to some lovely temple, tenantless XII. Cherish you then the hope I shall forget

Wild Swans

Sonnets and the Ballad of the Harp-Weaver

Sonnets

When you, that at this moment are to me I know I am but summer to your heart Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word! Here is a wound that never will heal, I know Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare

The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver

Aria Da Capo

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