written by Edna St. Vincent MillayThese wet rocks where the tide has been,
Barnacled white and weeded brown
And slimed beneath to a beautiful green,
These wet rocks where the tide went down
Will show again when the tide is high
Faint and perilous, far from shore,
No place to dream, but a place to die,
The bottom of the sea once more.
There was a child that wandered through
A giant's empty house all day,
House full of wonderful things and new,
But no fit place for a child to play.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Thu 03.03.2011 at 15:19
So, art thou feahered, art thou flown,
Thou naked thing? and canst alone
Upon the unsolid summer air
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Sun 02.27.2011 at 22:11
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Thu 02.03.2011 at 09:30
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Sun 01.23.2011 at 09:07
No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Fri 01.21.2011 at 13:57
"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Someone living here before
written by Edna St. Vincent Millay, published on Wed 01.19.2011 at 05:35
Let you not say of me when I am old,
In pretty worship of my withered hands
Forgetting who I am, and how the sands