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Edna St. Vincent Millay Quotes

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

Degraded bird, I give you back your eyes forever, ascend now whither you are tossed;Forsake this wri...

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Wine from These Grapes

Moon, that against the lintel of the westYour forehead lean until the gate be swung,Longing to leave...

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The sky, I thought, is not so grand;I 'most could touch it with my hand!And reaching up my hand to t...

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The Selected Poetry

My heart is warm with the friends I make,And better friends I'll not be knowing,Yet there isn't a tr...

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The Selected Poetry

I will come back to you, I swear I will;And you will know me still.I shall be only a little tallerTh...

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The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Pity me that the heart is slow to learnWhat the swift mind beholds at every turn.

The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing ...

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Renascence and Other Poems

And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with youall through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed,Sharing-oh,...

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The mind, at length bereftOf thinking and its pain,Will soon disperse again,And nothing will remain:...

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Mine the Harvest

Strong sun, that bleachThe curtains of my room, can you not renderColourless this dress I wear?—This...

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Huntsman

Sorrow like a ceaseless rainBeats upon my heart.People twist and scream in pain,—Dawn will find them...

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Collected Poems

And so beneath the weight lay IAnd suffered death, but could not die.

Collected Poems

Stranger, pause and look;From the dust of agesLift this little book,Turn the tattered pages,Read me,...

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And all at once the heavy nightFell from my eyes and I could see, --A drenched and dripping apple-tr...

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Collected Poems

Am I kin to Sorrow,That so oftFalls the knocker of my door—Neither loud nor soft,But as long accusto...

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Collected Poems

I know I am but summer to your heart,And not the full four seasons of the year;And you must welcome ...

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I know not how such things can be;I only know there came to meA fragrance such as never clingsTo aug...

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Collected Poems

I turn away reluctant from your light,And stand irresolute, a mind undone,A silly, dazzled thing dep...

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Collected Poems

Lost in Hell,-Persephone,Take her head upon your knee;Say to her, "My dear, my dear,It is not so dre...

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Collected Poems

When this book is mould,And a book of manyWaiting to be soldFor a casual penny,In a little open case...

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I avoid the looming visitor,Flee him adroitly around corners,Hating him, wishing him well;Lest if he...

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After all, my erstwhile dear,My no longer cherished,Need we say it was not love,Just because it peri...

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Collected Poems

I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcom...

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My candle burns at both ends;It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—It gives...

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A Few Figs from Thistles

Still must the poet as of old,In barren attic bleak and cold,Starve, freeze, and fashion verses toSu...

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A Few Figs from Thistles

It is impossible for me to be an Anarchist, for I do not believe in the essential goodness of man. T...

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TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with t...

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I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.

You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.

April Comes like an idiot babbling and strewing flowers.

With him for a sire and her for a dam What should I be but just what I am?

Now goes under, and I watch it go under, the sunThat will not rise again.Today has seen the setting,...

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Lie down beside these watersThat bubble from the spring;Hear in the desert silenceThe desert sparrow...

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Collected Poems

I would I were alive again to kiss the fingers of the rain.

Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would noteIn me a beauty that was never mine,How first you kne...

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My candle burns at both ends It will not last the night But ah my foes and oh my friends - I...

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Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and...

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Listen, children:Your father is dead.From his old coatsI'll make you little jackets;I'll make you li...

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After all my erstwhile dear my no longer cherished need we say it was no love just because it pe...

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Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was ...

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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

My heart is warm with the friends I make And better friends I'll not be knowing Yet there isn't a ...

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'Tis not love's going hurts my days but that it went in little ways.

Where you used to be there is a hole in the world which I find myself constantly walking around in...

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Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.

Music, my rampart and my only one.

Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly;In my own way, and with my full consent.Say what you wi...

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Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.

I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in...

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Beauty is whatever gives joy.

A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.

I love humanity but I hate people.

God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death.

Strange how few After all's said and done the things that are Of moment.

Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown, and puts away...

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I, being born a woman and distressedBy all the needs and notions of my kind,Am urged by your propinq...

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And all the loveliest things there be Come simply so it seems to me.

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,I have forgotten, and what arms have lainUnder my ...

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A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public with his pants down.

They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it'...

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And if I loved you Wednesday well what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday - so much is tru...

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The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a ...

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It is not true that life is one damn thing after another- it's one damn thing over and over.

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Picture of Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Poet

Born: 1892-02-22

Died: 1950-10-19

Edna St. Vincent Millay (February 22, 1892 – October 19, 1950) was an American lyrical poet and playwright and the first woman to receive the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. She was also known for her unconventional, bohemian lifestyle and her many love affairs. She used the pseudonym Nancy Boyd for her prose work.More