Edna St. Vincent Millay

“ And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,—
But my true love's a rover!
Mig, her man's as good as cheese
And honest as a briar,
Sue tells her love what he's thinking of,—
But my dear lad's a liar!
Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha
Are thick with Mig and Joan!
They bite their threads and shake their heads
And gnaw my name like a bone;
And Prue says, "Mine's a patient man,
As never snaps me up,"
And Agatha, "Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,
Could live content in a cup," ”

“ Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I’m through,—
There’s little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbours knock and borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There’s this little street and this little house. ”

“ When love-crossed-out will bring the answer right!
That first sweet-pea! I wonder where it is.
It seems to me I laid it down somewhere,
And yet,—I am not sure. I am not sure,
Even, if it was white or pink; for then
'Twas much like any other flower to me,
Save that it was the first. I did not know,
Then, that it was the last. If I had known—
But then, it does not matter. Strange how few,
After all's said and done, the things that are
Of moment.
Few indeed! When I can make
Of ten small words a rope to hang the world! ”

“ I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived,
And vows were not so brittle as they are,
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far,—
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking. ”

“ Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,
Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,
But of a love turned ashes and the breath
Gone out of beauty; never again will grow
The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow
Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath
Its friendly weathers down, far underneath
Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.
That April should be shattered by a gust,
That August should be levelled by a rain,
I can endure, and that the lifted dust
Of man should settle to the earth again ”

“ LUIGI. Why not, Anselmo? A king is no less lonely than a collier When his wife dies, And his young daughter there, For all her being a princess, is no less A motherless child, and cries herself to sleep Night after night, as noisily as any, You may be sure. ANSELMO. A motherless child loves not, They say, the second mother. Though the King May find him comfort in another face,— As it is well he should—the child, I fancy, Is not so lonely as she is distraught With grief for the dead Queen, and will not lightly Be parted from her tears. ”

“ I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
With weeping for your sake?
And what are you that, missing you,
As many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
And looking at the wall?
I know a man that's a braver man
And twenty men as kind,
And what are you, that you should be
The one man in my mind?
Yet women's ways are witless ways,
As any sage will tell,—
And what am I, that I should love
So wisely and so well? ”

“ I have stolen breath In a stalk of fennel! You shall scratch and you shall whine Many a night, and you shall worry Many a bone, before you bury One sweet bone of mine! When shall I be dead? When my flesh is withered, And above my head Yellow pollen gathered All the empty afternoon? When sweet lovers pause and wonder Who am I that lie thereunder, Hidden from the moon? This my personal death?— That lungs be failing To inhale the breath Others are exhaling? This my subtle spirit's end?— Ah, when the thawed winter splashes Over these chance dust and ashes, Weep not me, my friend! ”

“ And all at once the heavy night
Fell from my eyes and I could see,—
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—
I know not how such things can be!—
I breathed my soul back into me.
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again. ”

“ Thou hast received. I have prepared for thee
Within my house a spacious chamber, where
Are delicate things to handle and to wear,
And all these things are thine. Dost thou love song?
My minstrels shall attend thee all day long.
Or sigh for flowers? My fairest gardens stand
Open as fields to thee on every hand.
And all thy days this word shall hold the same:
No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name.
But as for tasks—" he smiled, and shook his head;
"Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by", he said. ”

“ COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] Look, Pierrot, there's the moon.
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Nonsense!
THYRSIS: I see.
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] Sing me an old song, Pierrot,— Something I can remember.
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Columbine. Your mind is made of crumbs,—like an escallop Of oysters,—first a layer of crumbs, and then An oystery taste, and then a layer of crumbs.
THYRSIS: [Searching.] I find no jewels . . . but I wonder what The root of this black weed would do to a man If he should taste it. ... I have seen a sheep die, With half the stalk still drooling from its mouth. ”

“ She had a horror he would die at night.
And sometimes when the light began to fade
She could not keep from noticing how white
The birches looked--and then she would be afraid,
Even with a lamp, to go about the house
And lock the windows; and as night wore on
Toward morning, if a dog howled, or a mouse
Squeaked in the floor, long after it was gone
Her flesh would sit awry on her. By day
She would forget somewhat, and it would seem
A silly thing to go with just this dream
And get a neighbor to come at night and stay.
But it would strike her sometimes, making the tea:
She had kept that kettle boiling all night long, for ”

“ LOR. Nay, I will not unfold the chart. BEA. But you remember well enough without; Promise me not to think of it. LOR. I' faith, You are a desperate woman. Ay, I promise. [Exeunt Bianca and Beatrice. Octavia seats herself. Pause.] OCT. I tell you, as I've told you often before, Lorenzo, 'tis not good for two young girls To be so much together! LOR. As you say, Octavia. For myself, I must confess It seems a natural thing, enough, that youth Should seek out youth. And if they are better pleased Talking together than listening to us, I find it not unnatural. ”

“ Yours is a face of which I can forget The color and the features, every one, The words not ever, and the smiles not yet; But in your day this moment is the sun Upon a hill, after the sun has set. V Once more into my arid days like dew, Like wind from an oasis, or the sound Of cold sweet water bubbling underground, A treacherous messenger, the thought of you Comes to destroy me; once more I renew Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found Long since to be but just one other mound Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew. ”

“ And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog,
That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog?
And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar,
But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe,
As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby,
You will find such flame at the wave’s weedy ebb
As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother’s web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn
From the love of a priest for a leprechaun,
And you never have seen and you never will see
Such things as the things that swaddled me! ”

“ Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!
Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!
And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,
I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly
That I might eat again, and met thy sneers
With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,—
Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,
As if spent passion were a holiday!
And now I go. Nor threat, nor easy vow
Of tardy kindness can avail thee now
With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown:
Lonely I came, and I depart alone,
And know not where nor unto whom I go ”

“ CORYDON: Now there's a wall a man may see across, But not attempt to scale.
THYRSIS: An excellent wall.
CORYDON: Come, let us separate, and sit alone A little while, and lay a plot whereby We may outdo each other. [They seat themselves on opposite sides of the wall.]
PIERROT: [Off stage.] Ehe, Pierrette!
COLUMBINE: [Off stage.] My name is Columbine! Leave me alone!
THYRSIS: [Coming up to the wall.] Corydon, after all, and in spite of the fact I started it myself, I do not like this So very much. What is the sense of saying I do not want you on my side the wall? It is a silly game. ”

“ BEA. You goose! 'Tis not because I'm a princess you feel that way— I've always thought the same thing about you!— The way you draw your gloves on is to me More marvelous than the way the sun comes up! [They both burst out laughing.] BEA. Oh, lud,—how droll we are! BIA. Oh, I shall die Of laughing! Think you anyone else, Rose-Red, Was ever half so silly? BEA. I dare wager There be a thousand, in this realm alone, Some even sillier! BIA. Here comes Fidelio! [Enter Fidelio.] BEA. Fidelio, sing to us,—there is no nightingale Abroad tonight, save you. And the night cries For music! ”

“ But your voice,—never the rushing Of a river underground, Not the rising of the wind In the trees before the rain, Not the woodcock's watery call, Not the note the white-throat utters, Not the feet of children pushing Yellow leaves along the gutters In the blue and bitter fall, Shall content my musing mind For the beauty of that sound That in no new way at all Ever will be heard again. Sweetly through the sappy stalk Of the vigorous weed, Holding all it held before, Cherished by the faithful sun, On and on eternally Shall your altered fluid run, Bud and bloom and go to seed ”

“ When the long hours of that mysterious night
Were over, and the morning was in sight—
I cried, but in strange places, steppe and firth
I have not seen, through alien grief and mirth;
And never shall one room contain me quite
Who in so many rooms first saw the light,
Child of all mothers, native of the earth.
So is no warmth for me at any fire
To-day, when the world’s fire has burned so low ”

“ Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten,
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink—and live—what has destroyed some men.
ii
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide! ”

“ Wouldn't I be a fool to spend my time Watching a flock of sheep go up a hill, When I have these to play with?—when I have these To think about?—I can't make up my mind Whether to buy a city, and have a thousand Beautiful girls to bathe me, and be happy Until I die, or build a bridge, and name it The Bridge of Corydon,—and be remembered After I'm dead. ”

“ CAR. A pair of lovers? Marry, I find your figure lacking force! Since when were lovers true? FRA. Oh, peace, Carlotta! You bear too sharp a weapon against the world,— A split tongue full of poison, in a head That darts at every heel!—I'm going in. [Exit Francesca.] LAU. You should not say such things when she is with us, Carlotto. CAR. Is the woman in love? LAU. In love! She is so far gone she does not know which way To sail,—all shores are equally out of sight. [Exeunt Laura and Carlotta.] [Music off stage. Enter Fidelio, singing.] ”

“ Crumbling stones and sliding sand Is the road to Heaven now; Icy at my straining knees Drags the awful under-tow; Soon but stepping-stones of dust Will the road to Heaven be,— Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Reach a hand and rescue me! "There—there, my blue-flag flower; Hush—hush—go to sleep; That is only God you hear, Counting up His folded sheep! Lullabye—lullabye— That is only God that calls, Missing me, seeking me, Ere the road to nothing falls! He will set His mighty feet Firmly on the sliding sand; Like a little frightened bird I will creep into His hand ”

“ I lay,—for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn,—
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep!
Witch-Wife She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me! ”

“ PIERROT: That's so. Give me a hand there, Columbine.
[PIERROT and COLUMBINE pull down the table cover in such a way that the two bodies are hidden from the house, then merrily set their bowls back on the table, draw up their chairs, and begin the play exactly as before.]
COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon,—I cannot live without a macaroon!
PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! ... Is it Tuesday, Columbine?— I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday. ”

“ And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!
34
The Shroud
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.
I, to-night, that till he came
Could not, could not wait,
In a gown as bright as flame
Held for them the gate.)
Death, I say, my heart is bowed
Unto thine,—O mother!
This red gown will make a shroud
Good as any other!
35
The Dream
Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care ”

“ MARIO. [Off stage.] Beatrice! Wait for me! Wait! BEA. [Off stage.] Not I! Who does not run? As fast as I run, shall be left behind me! GUI. They are coming here! I do not wish to see them! FRA. Oh, Guido! [She follows him off. Exeunt Guido and Francesca.] [Enter Beatrice, running, followed by Mario.] MAR. Beatrice, you run like a boy! You whistle like a boy! And upon my word, You are the only girl I ever played At jousting with, that did not hold her sword As if it were a needle! Which of us, Think you, when we are married, will be King? BEA. When we are married! ”

“ Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.
EXILED Searching my heart for its true sorrow, This is the thing I find to be: That I am weary of words and people, Sick of the city, wanting the sea; Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness Of the strong wind and shattered spray; Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound Of the big surf that breaks all day. Always before about my dooryard, Marking the reach of the winter sea, Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood, Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea ”

“ GIULIANA. Being a queen, My bird, is not all riding to the hunt Of a sunny morning. ANNA. Nay, 'tis riding back At times, of a rainy night, to such a burden Of cares as simple folk have little mind of. GILDA. I'd rather have a queen's cares than my own. BEPPO. Ho, ho! Your cares! What cares have you? GILDA. I have A brother that will be teasing me all times! 'Tis cares enough for one, I tell you. ADELINA. [Across stage.] Beppo! Come help me fetch the milk! GILDA. Oh, Mister Beppo, Your sweetheart calls you! Run and fetch the milk! ”

“ Oh, grey hill, Where the grazing herd Licks the purple blossom, Crops the spiky weed! Oh, stony pasture, Where the tall mullein Stands up so sturdy On its little seed!
ASSAULT I I had forgotten how the frogs must sound After a year of silence, else I think I should not so have ventured forth alone At dusk upon this unfrequented road. II I am waylaid by Beauty. Who will walk Between me and the crying of the frogs? Oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass, That am a timid woman, on her way From one house to another! ”

“ MAR. Bianca, do you love me? BIA. Ay, Mario! MAR. Ah, but not as I love you! BIA. You do not mean that, Mario; you know How much I love you. But I could not be happy Thinking of her awake in the darkness, weeping, And all alone. MAR. Oh, my sweet love. BIA. It may be She will sleep. MAR. I shall be waiting for you. [They embrace.] [Exit Mario. Bianca goes to Beatrice and sits at the foot of the throne, putting her head against Beatrice's feet.] BIA. Sister. [After a moment Beatrice slowly reaches down her hand, and Bianca takes it.] CURTAIN ”

“ TRAVEL The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn't a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going. ”

“ When I am put to death 'Twill be for more! Oh, I will have her yet By the hair! [For the first time noticing Fidelio.] Fidelio, if you breathe one word Of this, I will scratch the Princess into ribbons, Whom you love better than your wit. FID. I' faith, I did but hear you say you are a fish-wife, And all the world knows that. LAU. Fear not, Carlotta, He is as dumb as a prophet. Every second word He utters, eats the one before it. Speak, But softly. CAR. Nay,'tis nothing.—Nay, by my head, It is a townful! 'Tis the way she has Of saying "that should be done like this, and this Like that!" ”

“ I long for Silence as they long for breath Whose helpless nostrils drink the bitter sea; What thing can be So stout, what so redoubtable, in Death What fury, what considerable rage, if only she, Upon whose icy breast, Unquestioned, uncaressed, One time I lay, And whom always I lack, Even to this day, Being by no means from that frigid bosom weaned away, If only she therewith be given me back? ”

“ She hates me. And her hatred draws me to her As the moon draws the tide. GIO. You are like a cat— There never was a woman yet that feared you And shunned you, but you leapt upon her shoulder! Well, I'll be off. The prettiest girl in Fiori,— Unless it be Her Highness, waits for me By a fountain. All day long she sells blue plums, And in the evening what she has left of them She gives to me! You should love simply, Guido, As I do. [Exit Giovanni.] [Guido sits on the bench and drops his head in hand. Enter Francesca.] FRA. [Softly.] Guido! Guido! GUI. Who calls me? FRA. Guido! GUI. Francesca! ”